Mutability
by the morrighan
Summary: Changes are in store as everyone adjusts to family life.
1. Chapter 1

Mutability

Red.

The color was a vivid smear on the data screen. Popping up in the double helix of genetic codes, the spiral sequences arrayed side by side by side in a comparison. Data scrolled at the bottom of the illustration, breaking the chains into molecules and amino acids. Proteins and other identifying markers. Crimson spots in the swirling blue and green spirals pinpointing a key element.

Moira Sheppard sighed, staring at the screen. Frowning in concentration she typed a few commands. The images grew larger. More complex. She tapped her earpiece. "Peter, copy?"

As her fellow biologist assented she continued. "And these are from the Iratus bug eggs, right? Straight from the source, so to speak, of the original enzyme."

"Yes," Peter Harrison confirmed, sitting in the bio lab and staring at his own data screen displaying the same data. "I've highlighted the enzyme cells in red, as you can see. When I added some human tissue you can see how engorged those cells became. In effect feeding upon the intrusive cells. After invading the cellular wall. Then feeding upon it...but it's not...not a complete absorption." He paused, smiled hearing a fussy baby in the background. "Moira? Is–"

"He's fine," Moira commented with a sigh, glancing over at the playpen set in the middle of the room. The baby was propped in a corner, leaning on a teddy bear almost his size. The infant was beginning to fuss, making whimpering sounds which would eventually lead to a cry if not intercepted. His lips were forming a pout as he stared at his mother as she sat at the table. Moira eyed the screen again. "We're still missing something, Peter! If the cells aren't being absorbed that means that the bugs aren't incorporating the human DNA into their own cells. When that Iratus bug fed on John it didn't turn him into a Wraith. It just drained his energy. I don't even think it took enough of his DNA to effect any kind of change."

"True...but our standing theory is that the bugs became the Wraith, somehow."

"Then our standing theory must be wrong...at least for the more sophisticated Wraith, the more evolved kind of..." She paused, raising her voice as the baby's complaints became louder. "Just a second, Johnny," she said, glancing at the infant. He was pulling himself up onto the toy, expression torn between a crying fit and annoyance, making her smile. The similarity to his father was amusing. "I think we need to start again. Can you test the enzyme with the retro-virus?" she asked.

"Of course," Peter assented, hearing the baby's fussing in the background. "I'll check the effect on both the enzyme and the bug's DNA cells to see if there is any difference."

"And add in the human as well," Moira suggested, voice rising once more. "Let's see if we can create, then destroy a molecular Wraith in the lab. Theoretically if that is how they came to be then we could oh hang on!"

Moira stood, moved to the playpen as the baby began to cry. Big, gulping hiccups, eyes full of tears. "Johnny, knock it off! What is it? Oh...lunch?" she asked, lifting the infant to her arms. The baby cried, little hands clasping her shirt. She sighed, kissed him. "Okay, darling. Ssh! Peter, sorry, I'll have to table this again until he goes down."

"No problem, Moira," Peter affably agreed. "I'll send you the data as I work."

"Thanks. Sorry!" She switched off the earpiece, set it on the table, all the while gently bouncing the fussy baby. "Okay, okay, hold on, would you? You are as persistent as your father!" she scolded, moved to sit on the bed. "We might be onto something here, Johnny, so hush," she scolded, unbuttoning her shirt. Pulling up the bra and guiding the infant to one heavy breast. "There now," she soothed, as the baby began to suckle. Blue eyes on his mother as his little hands caught her shirt. "I think we'll need Carson on this. And the records of what happened to your father when he became infected with the retro-virus," she mused, rocking the infant.

John Sheppard was in a foul mood. He glowered at everyone, anyone who happened to cross his path. Curious gazes were averted as he descended the stairs. Crossed the control room. Whispers were silenced as he strode down the hallways. Boots clomping in an angry staccato as he stomped to his quarters. He entered his room. Except it wasn't his room any more. It was the nursery. Except it was a chaotic mess. Cluttered with boxes and bags. Unopened furniture. Baby items galore littered the bed, the table, the floor.

He stumbled over a box. Kicked it. Heard a satisfying crash as it careened into another, tipping yet a third. His satisfaction was short lived, however, as heard Moira's voice from the other room.

"John?"

"Fine! I'm fine!" he snarled. He moved to grab the fallen boxes when another hit his elbow. "Son of a bitch!" he flared, shoving his way to the fridge.

"John?" Moira repeated, sitting at the table as she fed the baby. He noisily sucked at her breast, oblivious to his father's ranting.

John entered the room, beer in hand. He stared at his wife and son. Sat on the bed, drank deeply. Deep swallows nearly mimicking his son's. He lowered the bottle, licked his lips. "Put John junior into his cradle," he tersely stated. Wanting nothing more than to fuck his wife, repeatedly. To lose himself in exuberant sex. Waves of pleasure taking everything away. He watched her gently free herself from the baby's mouth. Her wet, rosy, hard nipple making John's body react. He looked away from her, drank more beer. Downed the liquid. As she passed, patting the baby on the back he stood, moved to get another. "Moira!" he barked, "get your pert little ass in here now!"

She sighed. "It's all right, Johnny. Daddy's just in a pissy mood. Again." She kissed the infant. Placed him in his wheeled playpen. She buttoned her shirt, pushed the playpen into the nursery. Maneuvered around the obstacle course where John sat on his bed, having cleared it of boxes and bags. "John?"

"I said to leave him!" he snapped. Regretted it seeing Moira's concern. Hearing the baby start to cry.

"John!" Moira soothed the baby, leaning over the playpen.

John stared hard at her rear, snug in the khakis pants. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Moira. Shit, now I'm terrorizing my infant son!"

"Not terrorizing, but yes, you are upsetting him. He hates that tone." She straightened as the baby sucked on a toy, watching his parents with wide eyes. Moira moved to her husband, sat next to him. "Talk to me, John." She touched his hand. He drew away.

"Why the hell haven't you cleared this room?" he asked moodily.

"Why haven't you?" she retorted. "I've been a little busy, sweetie, what with your son and all."

"Sorry." He sighed. "Fuck it, Moy. You were right. About everything." He drank the beer.

"What do you mean? Right about what?"

"This." He gestured around the room. Downed more beer.

"The mess? We'll get it sorted soon enough, sweetie."

"No! Not the mess! You think I give a shit about the mess?" he fumed. Stood, stepped round the playpen where the baby started to fuss. Toy dropping from his mouth. "This! I can't...I can't manage it, Moy!" he finally admitted. "I can't mange everything! You were right! We never should have let things go this far! We never should have gotten married. Let alone had a baby! What the hell were we thinking? I thought I could handle it but I can't. Moy, I can't!"

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"What happened? What happened?" he shouted, pacing like a wild animal. He drank the beer, drained it dry. "I refused a mission! A fucking mission, Moira!" The baby started to cry but John plowed ahead, ignoring him. "I have never refused a mission! Never! I delegated it to Reynolds and his team and boy did Weir rip me a new one for that! I didn't want to be wasting my time on some fucking, asinine meet and greet! All I could think of was you, Moy! You! You and John junior! How long I'd be away, how well you would cope, what would I miss, how you would be without me! I can't do that, Moy! I'm the fucking military commander of Atlantis, but you...you...you, Moira!" He stopped, glaring at her.

Moira stared back at him calmly, glancing at the baby as John resumed his tirade, his pacing.

"All I can think of is this! It was bad enough before, when we weren't having sex and I had a fucking hard-on every day, but now, now it's worse! I swear it's worse because every night I want to be in our bed with you, fucking you repeatedly at last! And then I wonder what I'll miss when I'm gone, what Johnny might suddenly do or achieve or try and I can't be like that!" He threw the bottle across the room. It smashed against the wall, shattering into a million pieces.

The bay started to wail.

Moira moved to her feet, alarmed. "John!"

"Sex, Moira! I need sex now! I want to lose myself in you, Moira! In love and sex and sex. I wish we'd never come back here! I could, you know!" He pointed to the door. "I could go right out that door and fuck any woman I want! It wouldn't mean anything. It would just be sex, Moira! Shut that kid up, would you?" he snapped, striding to the door.

"John! John Sheppard, don't you dare walk out that door! Don't you dare leave me!"

John froze, never having heard that strident tone of voice from his Moira. The baby abruptly stopped crying, seemingly as shocked as his father. John slowly turned to look at his son. The baby was looking at him, big blue eyes filled with tears and John would swear astonishment mirroring his own. The baby hiccuped. "Um...Moira...I wasn't really going to..." he began sheepishly, but her glare silenced him.

"Sit down!" She pointed. John hung his head, trudged to the bed. Sat. Moira moved to the fridge, grabbed a beer. She shoved it at him. "Here! Try not to throw this one, okay?" She moved to the baby, knelt and lifted him. "Ssh, ssh, darling, it's all right! Ssh," she soothed, kissing and cuddling him. She nibbled his ear to make him gurgle, coo.

John stared. "He likes that too?"

Moira set him down, gave him a toy to suck. "Yes. And he has the same John Sheppard oral fixation." She glanced at John who was sucking on the beer bottle. He paused, eyes on his son sucking on the toy. Amusement glimmered briefly. Moira sighed, moved to sit next to her husband. "Now talk to me, John. Nicely. From the beginning. Calmly. You refused a mission, you said. What mission?"

John sipped some beer. Stared at the bottle. "M1X243. We've been there before. Traded. Friendlies. No reports of Wraith. No Ancient tech to salvage. No intel. Just a mission of allies. They needed help with some crop or other. Goodwill mission. No reports of military incursions or hostiles. I didn't want to waste my time. Wasting time yet again on another backward, backwater planet when Rodney's got a million more important things to do here. It would have bored Ronon to tears. Even Teyla maybe. It was a mission for a lower echelon team." He glanced at her. "There. I said it. I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

"And you told all this to Weir?"

"Yes. Pretty much word for word. Not the fucking asinine part, though. She thought it was all an excuse so I could stay here with you and my son."

"And was it? An excuse?"

He considered, eyes on the bottle. He drained it in a long swallow. "No. It wasn't. But it was." He sighed. "I didn't want to waste my time on a low priority mission when I could be here with you and John junior. I've been so worried about you, Moira. And how all this is affecting you, your work. How you are settling in with our baby." He gestured towards the infant who was falling asleep, content now that the angry voices had calmed. "How he's settling into this new environment. I didn't have time to consider how I was settling into all of this. And now I don't know if I can handle it all." He set the empty bottle aside. Turned to find her offering another. He raised a brow. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Moy?"

"Maybe."

He took it. Drank some.

"We knew it wasn't going to be easy, John," she commiserated. "And it's not. But you'll handle it."

"I don't know, Moy. I said two weeks. Two weeks and we'd be back to normal. Back to our jobs. On a schedule, a routine. Even Captain Johnny there. But it's been three weeks. And at the first mission I balk. You can imagine how that looks to Weir. How it looks to me." He drank.

Moira touched his thigh, caressed. "Cut yourself some slack, John. This is a huge change for us. For him. For the whole city, really."

"I can't. Cut myself any slack. I'm a lieutenant colonel, Moy. I'm the military commander and responsible for everyone in the city. Not just you and John junior. I lead the alpha team on top priority missions. If I'm seen to be slacking off that would be disastrous for the ranks. Even for the civvies, like you."

"You're being too hard on yourself, John. You had valid reasons for rejecting that mission. You wouldn't want to be bogged down there if you were needed desperately elsewhere, now would you?" she reasoned.

"Well, no. But my job–"

"Your job, colonel, is to see the big picture. To make the hard decisions. To decide what is best not just for your team but for all of the teams. To keep up morale in the ranks. Even for the civvies, like me. Trust your own judgement, John. I trust it."

He considered, eyes on his son. The baby was asleep, little mouth open. Toy fallen away but close. Moira watched her husband. Knew he was mulling over her words. His thoughts flitting as he stared at his son. He laid back suddenly. Covered his face with his hands. "If I wasn't so fucking tired..." he muttered.

Moira smiled. Still caressing his thigh. Inching her fingers along to find his cock. "It will get better, John. With Rodney's device Johnny should sleep through most of the night now. So that just leaves the sex and we can always cut back on that. You're right. Sleep is much more important than any fleeting physical satisfaction."

"Fleeting?" he asked, uncovering his face to give her a scolding look. "Hell, no, baby. We are not cutting back on the sex. And the satisfaction sure as hell isn't fleeting." His voice was low, serious. Her fingers slid inexorably to his cock as she slid up, leaning against him. She softly kissed his lips. Kept kissing him as his fingers ran through her hair. He drew her mouth to his. Parting her lips so his tongue could enter, could tease.

"Hmm...colonel, your ordnance seems to need a maintenance check," she teased into his ear. She stroked, stroked, ran her nails up and down, up and down his hardening length.

"You think so, baby? Go right ahead. A full perimeter sweep. Lots and lots of lubricant, baby. The snuggest, sweetest holster to repeatedly slide in and out, in and out, in and–"

"John!" She smiled, kissed him. Pounced on top of him suddenly, kissing him passionately.


	2. Chapter 2

Mutability2

John caught her, rolled them so she was beneath him. He thrust against her, already hard from her touches, her caresses. He kissed her, sliding his mouth to nibble her earlobe. To lick behind, making her squirm and squeal in a whimper. He smiled. "That's the Moira thing," he informed. His hand slid up under her shirt to cup a breast. To gently squeeze.

Moira broke his kisses. "What?" she asked breathlessly. Stared into his brilliant green eyes.

"Never mind." He kissed her. "Let's get it on, baby. I need this. Now." He scooted, looked over his shoulder. The baby was asleep, making tiny sounds as he sucked lazily at his toy. "Junior's asleep. So...my Moy-toy...here? Or our bed?" His voice was gruff as he shifted against her. His hand suddenly sliding between her legs as he lifted up. He probed, feeling her wetness, her heat. "So fucking sweet. I can't wait, baby. Here."

"Talk nice, John," she scolded. Squirming as his fingers caressed. Nearly clawed. "John!"she moaned as he kissed her, prying into the fabric with his nimble fingers. Moira was arching up as he deftly unzipped her pants. Slid his hand to aggressively stroke along the damp panties. He groaned as his fingers slid into the panties and she gasped, whimpered as he stroked quickly. His tongue darted into her mouth. Slid down to mouth her breasts through her shirt, feeling the nipples harden. "Oh John, John, John..." she whispered, grabbing his arms.

"Ah baby...so fucking sweet..." he muttered. Kissed up her throat, whispered hotly, "sweetest little pussy in the–"

"John!" She shoved him. "Damn it! Don't!"

He laughed. "You want it, baby. Besides, I like you all hot and bothered and pissed. Flustered. It turns me on, baby. My own little sex kitty ready to take my–"

"Shut up! Get off me!" She shoved, squirmed free. Scooted to the edge of the bed. "Fucking soldier!"

"Yeah, you're about to fuck a soldier, baby," he agreed.

"Shut up! I don't want you like this!" She stood, zipped her pants.

John smiled. Lazily sprawled. "Really? You felt eager enough to me, baby. Soaking my trophy not to mention my fingers."

She glared, flustered. "Shut up! If you can't be nice to me, John, then go, fuck one of your lots some women then!"

"Moira," he said smugly, "that's exactly what I am about to do, baby."

"I hate you when you're like this!" she fumed. Feeling tears she rolled the playpen out of the room as the baby stirred.

John sighed. Cursed. Stared at the ceiling as his body thrummed with demands. Need. He debated. Heard Moira's soft voice as she soothed the baby. He wondered briefly if he had inadvertently hurt her. He stood. Quietly left after peeking in on her. She was at the cradle, talking to the baby.

Moira heard the silence. Realized John had left. She wondered for a wild moment if he was going to find one of his lots some women, or any woman, but dismissed the panic. Knew he would never do that. She moved to the table, sat. Grabbed her earpiece and clicked it on. "Peter? Copy? Any results?"

"Moira?" Peter's voice sounded in her ear. "Yes! Well, take a look. I'm transmitting data now. Is the baby all right?"

"Yes, he's fed and asleep at the moment." She scanned the incoming data, shifting on the chair. Her body still aroused by John's determined wooing. "Nothing surprising, then. The bug and human DNA are still incompatible, even with the addition of the enzyme on this level. And the retro-virus is merely a–" A knock on the door interrupted. Moira sighed. "Sorry again, Peter. I'll go over this and get back to you." Moira removed the earpiece, looking over as the door suddenly opened. "What the..."

John lounged in the doorway. His long, lean frame taking up the threshold. His handsome face drawn in contrite lines. He held a single red rose. "May I?"

Moira stared at him. "Depends. Who is asking? If it's Colonel Boy-Toy he can leave."

John smiled. "And if it's Colonel Romance?"

"Who? I haven't seen him in a long, long time," she responded, trying not to smile. The black t-shirt hugged his torso. Gray pants snug. He was giving her his best little boy lost look, so like his son she had to smile.

John entered. Closed the door. Moved to her. Ran the rose across her cheek, her lips. "Colonel Romance is shy, Moira. Inept. How about this? It's the man who loves you."

"Oh? The man who just wants to fuck me, you mean. No thanks." She looked at the data screen, a glimmer of hurt in her brown eyes. She stared at the data, but couldn't focus on it. Not with John standing so close, suddenly all hearts and flowers as both amusement and sincerity shown in his brilliant green eyes.

John moved to his knees, touched her thighs. Ran the rose's soft petals down her throat. "The man who wants to make love with you, Moira. Only you. The man who wants to be as intimate as two lovers can be. As close as a man and a woman can be. He wants all of you, Moy. All of your love. He needs it, Moira. It's like a drug."

She kept her eyes on the screen, knowing if she looked at him she would cave. Lose herself in his brilliant green eyes. His handsome face. Disordered dark brown hair. The strong lines of his jaw. The shadow of stubble. His full, kissable lips. His voice was low, sincere. Shivering along her skin with warmth and desire. "He just wants the, the sex. That's all."

He smiled. "No. That's not all. Sure, that's a part, a big part of being intimate. Close. But not all. He likes the feel of your body pressed to his. Snuggled together under the blankets in their own little world. John and Moira.. Completely happy and trusting. Completely safe and secure. There's no one else but John and Moira. Except for junior, of course, but he can't be a part of this. This special, loving John and Moira thing." He set the rose aside. Hands sliding to her hips. Parting her thighs to move closer. "Moira. Moira Sheppard."

Moira tried not to smile. Not to look at him. Not to feel his gentle caresses. His warm touch. "So...it's more than the sex?" she tested.

"Yes. Much more. The sex...ah, the sex just brings it all together beautifully. Brings them to the most intimate, passionate connection. Something neither have had with anyone else. Isn't that true, my Moira?"

"Yes." She finally met his gaze. "John."

He kissed her. A long, savoring kiss. Taking possession of her mouth. "I'm sorry, Moy. I didn't mean to upset you. Well, to upset you that much." He kissed her again. "Let me make it up to you, sweetheart. In the best way I know." He kissed her, moving to his feet. Pulling her up into his arms. Bodies pressing, pressing.

"John...oh John..." Moira enthused softly.

He relaxed at her words, her tone. "I want to be with you, Moira. Now. Just the two of us until junior wakes up. I want to be in you, Moy, as far as I can go, to drown in my Moira's love and passion. I need it, Moy," he wooed, voice low, husky with desire. A raw hunger shone in his brilliant green eyes.

"Wow...you're usually not this talkative," she commented, running her hands along his chest. Captivated by his arousal, his need. His words.

He smiled. "You seem to need all this romance crap, Moira. But for me...for me a look is enough. A kiss. Sex. Tells me all I need to know. How you feel about me. How you want me."

She kissed him. "Oh sweetie, I do want you. I need it too, John...I need...I...oh John!" She kissed him again, sliding her body along his.

John kept kissing her, undoing her pants. Sliding them down, yanking them off her hips. She awkwardly stepped out of them, out of her shoes as she bumped into the bed. John freed her to sit on the bed, to swiftly untie his boots and yank them from his feet. He removed his pants. Moira slid her hands up his back under his shirt.

"Jo-hn," she teased into his ear, easing herself behind him on the bed. She kissed the nape of his neck. Bit his ear. "John."

"Hang on, baby, I'm almost–"

Her hand slid round to grasp his erection still trapped in his shorts. "Shall I take the stick, colonel?"

"Absolutely, baby, all the way to your–"

She kissed him, cutting off his words. She slid round to straddle him, to push him onto his back. "Play nice, colonel, or you won't play at all."

"As ordered, baby." Moira leaned down, kissing him passionately, squirming on him until he groaned. She circled his ear, nails running up his chest under his shirt. She bit harder. Harder, sucking until he swatted her rear. "You play nice, baby!" he scolded. Grabbed her and rolled so she was underneath him.

"I thought you liked it hard, John," she countered hotly.

"I know you do, baby," he retorted. He kissed her, unbuttoning her shirt. Her fingers slid down to stroke, caress. Slid into his shorts. She ran her nails along the hard length of him. John moaned, yanking open her shirt. Shoving up the bra to cup, caress. Tongue each breast. Moira moaned, arching under him, legs widening as she pulled, pulled on his cock. Rubbing it against her damp panties. She whimpered, squeezing as he sucked at each hard nipple. "Fuck, fuck!" he growled. He smacked her hands off him. Yanked down his shorts, her panties. Moira squirmed as he caressed between her legs, probing as he slid down, kissing along her hips. Lower. Lower.

"John!" she whimpered, the rush of desire unbearable. He slid up, slid in. A hard thrust that made him groan with relief, pleasure.

"Hard enough, baby?" he teased hotly. Thrusting hard and fast. He ran his mouth sloppily along hers, then trailed along her throat.

"Oh yes, sweetie, yes! John! Oh John!"

"No sweetie during sex," he reminded tersely, rocking the bed. Rocking her. The headboard was ringing as it repeatedly hit the wall. Over and over and over.

Pleasure spiraled, spiraled as he filled her. Sliding rapidly, thickly. Moira lost her breath as he aggressively took her. He was a little rough, rubbing her clitoris so hard she thought she'd die. Over and over and over until the climax flooded, slammed into her. "John!" she cried, unable to keep her voice soft. "John, John, John!" She arched, clung to him as the pleasure swept her in a tide of passion, of lust. But John was still riding her hard and fast.

John groaned, straining. Exulting as she clutched, clenched, drove him into waves of pleasure. Bathing him in passion and helpless writhing. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he grunted. Spasm after spasm as he came in a thrusting rush. Slamming the headboard, nearly slamming Moira into it as well as his hunger was relentless. Until the release and he jerked wildly inside of her. Fell upon her. "Fuck!" he muttered. Kissed her. "My Moira, so sweet. So fucking sweet..."

Moira caught her breath, sprawled under him, unable to move. She blinked back tears of pleasure. Glanced at the cradle. The baby was stirring, but fell back asleep. John ran kisses up her throat. He nibbled on her earlobe as he shifted on top of her, still inside her. "John...you..." She ran her hands along his bare back under his shirt.

"Hard enough, baby?" he asked. He lifted, slid out of her and settled on her again as she met his gaze. "Moira? You know I'll have to go on the next mission."

She touched his face. Ran her fingers across his jaw. "I know, John. It will be all right."

"Will it? I don't know, Moy. This is all I want." He sighed, hid his face in her hair. "This is all I want. You. John junior."

"You have us, John. You have us both. We're not going anywhere. We'll be here when you get back. Don't you worry, sweetie. We, we'll balance all of this," she soothed, but John lifted his head, hearing the doubt in her voice.

"Will we?" he asked. He kissed her. A gentle, loving kiss. "What if I don't want to balance it, Moy? What if I just want to be here with you and our son?"

"You are with us, now. Always, John. What would you do? Quit your job here?"

"Would you?" he countered. He sighed, rolled onto his back. "I don't know. No. I just...damn it, Moy, you...I'm not supposed to have this! Any of this! Not me. Not John Sheppard. Not a wife. Not a son. Not a...my own little family like this," he grumbled. Folded his arm over his eyes. "I'm not...I can't, Moy. I can't have this. I'll just fuck it up. I always do. Did. Or it's taken from me. You...you...what if something happens to me, Moy? What then? What if, if I'm not here on some stupid mission and something happens to you here, or to junior? I can't have this, Moy."

She slid onto him. Kissed his lips. "But you do, John. Have this. Have me. Have your son. Nothing will happen to you. You are far too skilled and careful to allow that, aren't you? And nothing will happen to us here. You won't allow that either. Nor will I. Face it, John, you have this now. There's no way you could fuck it up. Face it, Sheppard, you are stuck with us now. Your own little family. Your own little circle. So suck it up soldier, and find a balance, okay?"

He moved his arm to slide around her. Opened his eyes. Smiled. "Is that an order, baby?"

Moira kissed him. "Yes, sweetie. It is." She sat. Glanced at the cradle. The baby was stirring again. Making little sounds. Little motions. "Well, sweetie? We've got maybe...ten or so..." She smiled at him. Straddled him. Gyrated. "Are you up for another round, soldier?"

John grinned. He slid his hands along her bare thighs. "Yes, ma'am. Do me, baby. Do me hard."

She leaned down, kissing him. "As ordered, colonel."


	3. Chapter 3

Mutability3

Moira kept kissing him. Enjoying the feel of his full lips entwined with hers. Mouths taking, giving. Tongues gliding, teasing in an erotic dance of their own. Her hands slid under his shirt, nails raking through his chest hair. "Oh John, oh John, oh John Sheppard," she whimpered into his ear, squirming on his cock now. Feeling it harden and stir under her. "So fucking sweet, colonel! So fucking hard!"

John shifted under her. "Then fuck me, baby. I'm always at your service. Fuck that feels good!" He grabbed her rear and squeezed hard to make her squeal.

"John!" She kissed him, nibbled on his lower lip. Bit until he groaned in complaint. She straightened, lifted. He sprang after her, hard and eager. She took him into her as his hands slid to her hips, guiding her. Moira moaned, whimpered as she began to ride him. Wild motions to slide him where she wanted him, needed him. "John, oh John, oh John, so fucking hard!" she whispered. Fingers clawing at his shirt, clutching the material as the sensations grew, grew.

John thrust up into her, watching her taking him, enjoying him. Her long hair flying round her as she moved faster and faster. The open shirt giving him glimpses of her fuller breasts bouncing. He grabbed her rear again to shove her onto him. Squeezing as she clenched on him. "Harder, baby, harder," he instructed.

"John! Oh John, John..."she moaned, but he suddenly sat. Thrusting harder and faster, grabbing her to lean her backwards. "John!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arms before she fell. She wrapped her legs, her thighs around him as he thrust up, up into her. Grunting and guiding.

John yanked her to him. Captured her mouth in a lengthy kiss as he kept her moving, kept himself in her. Flipped her suddenly onto her back and followed after. Began to thrust in earnest now. The bed was rocking wildly. Moira was sobbing as the climax bloomed. She clutched at him, clawed but he wouldn't let her go. Not until the sweet release expended itself at last. He groaned, spurting. He fell upon her. Kissed her repeatedly, sloppy, wet kisses as his thrust slowly, weakly. The desire ebbing to stillness as the pleasure calmed.

"John? John?" Moira stammered. She tried to relax her legs, her clutching hands on his arms, her clenching muscles on his cock. Her mouth nearly devoured by his. But he was still inside her, thrusting weakly now, gentle motions. Intimate. Possessive. His kisses slid down to her breasts as he slid out of her at last.

"Ah, baby. Baby..." he intoned smugly. "That was a fantastic fuck. Every inch of you, baby. Every delicious inch."

"I, I could say the same of you, sweetie...you...my God! How did you...you, you rolled us over and didn't miss a, a...how do you keep it like that?"

He smiled. "You. Sweetest center in the fucking galaxy, baby." He kissed her. Glanced at the cradle where the baby started to fuss. "Not yet, junior."

Moira touched his face. Drew his mouth to her. "John...you...oh John...you..."

"Give me five, baby, and I...okay, maybe ten after that. Then, my Moira, we can–" A knock sounded on the door. Moira tensed under him. John frowned. Kissed up her throat. "Ssh. Not a sound, Moy."

The baby started to fuss louder. "John, whoever is out there will hear Johnny and know we didn't leave him alone," she whispered. She looked at the cradle as the baby's whimpers grew more insistent. Another knock. "He's going to cry, John."

"So am I, damn it," he muttered. "Hang on!" he called. He rolled off her. Pulled up his shorts, adjusted his shirt. Moira scrambled off the bed, buttoning her shirt. She looked round.

"John? John, where are my...oh no!"

He grinned, waving her panties in the air. "Mine." He pulled on his pants. Stuffed the panties into a pocket. Laughed.

"Pervert,"Moira accused. He laughed again. She pulled on her pants, zipped them. Moved to the baby before he launched into a full on cry. "Ssh, darling! What's wrong? Oh oh...need a change, do we? Okay, Johnny, here we go." She carried him to the changing table. "John! Straighten the bed first!" she ordered over her shoulder.

John ran a hand through his hair, eyed the disordered bed. "No." He smirked, moved to the door. Schooled his expression and opened it. Knew their disordered bed and their disordered appearance would reveal exactly what they had been doing. He didn't care. He looked forward to Moira's flustered reaction. "Oh. Elizabeth." He stepped back, gesturing for her to enter. Suddenly conscious of his bare feet.

Elizabeth Weir eyed him, brow raised. His rumpled clothes. Undone belt. The messy bed. The comforter askew, pulled to one side. A book had fallen onto the floor from the table. "Am I...am I interrupting something?" she asked warily.

"No. Not now," he smiled.

"John," Moira warned as she changed the baby's diaper. She laughed suddenly. "John, come here a moment."

John shrugged. "Just a sec." He moved to his wife, eyed his gurgling son. "What?" he asked, as Moira buttoned his sleeper, giggling. "Are you giddy, baby?" he whispered into her ear.

"Johnny couldn't stand down," she whispered.

John grinned. Brushed his crotch against her rear. "He's not the only one, baby," he teased, voice low. "Commando." He stepped back from her, turned but Moira thrust the baby into his arms.

Moira smiled at John's expression of surprise as he took the baby from her. She knew the sight of him holding his son would melt any woman's heart. She moved to Elizabeth, flinging her hair over her shoulders. Ignoring her messy appearance. The disordered bed. "I'm sorry, Doctor Weir. It's my fault. I didn't want John to go on a mission just yet. I still need him here to help with Johnny," she explained

"He didn't say as much," Elizabeth refuted.

"No, well, of course he wouldn't," Moira smoothly countered. "But the truth is I am still trying to settle into all of this and we still need to set up the nursery properly and I'm trying to ease Johnny onto a more regular schedule but he is just a baby and it takes time and I need John here! I need John here with me and the baby at least until we can get a more–"

"Moira," John remonstrated, heading for them as he held the fussy baby. Realized what she was doing.

"You have to understand, Moira," Elizabeth replied, as both women ignored him, "John's job cannot be neglected for much longer. If he can't perform his duties I may have to–"

"John can perform all of his duties, I can assure you of that," Moira stated seriously, ignoring the spark of humor that no doubt her husband was experiencing as well, "and he has told me that he must go on the next mission. I understand that. I just need him here for a little while longer to fix up the nursery and get Johnny on a regular schedule and–"

"Moira, he's hungry," John interrupted her diatribe as her voice quavered. He wondered if it was all for show.

Moira turned. "No, he's fine, he–"

"No, he's not fine. Take him." John gave her a remonstrative look as he handed her the baby. The infant fussed loudly now, big blue eyes full of tears.

Moira sighed, kissed the baby. "All right, darling. Excuse me." She carried the baby into the bathroom.

John shrugged. "Sorry about that. I mean, Moira's exaggerating. But we do need to do all of that ASAP, I know."

Elizabeth met his gaze. "I understand, John. It's all right. You had valid reasons for refusing that mission, I have to admit. But you can't avoid your duties next time. You told me you could handle all of this."

"I know. I can. Just give me...until the next mission," he decided. He could hear Moira's soft voice in the bathroom. The baby's noisy suckling.

"Okay. Spend time with your son, John. Until the next mission. I'll leave you to it."

John stared as she left the room. He closed the door. Turned and moved to the bathroom. Moira had finished and was holding the baby at her shoulder, gently patting his back. He emitted little burps, gurgling happily as he held onto her. "Moira, how did you do that?"

"Like I always do," she replied, circling round him. "Although it wasn't easy to unbutton the shirt and hold the baby at the same time but I–"

"No, no, not that! I mean that! Out there!" He pointed to the other room. "Taking the blame for my lethargy, and making it all okay with Weir. 'Cause, believe me, it was far from okay when he had that argument over it. How did you fix it just like that?" He snapped his fingers.

Moira smiled. Moved past him, gently bouncing the baby. The infant giggled happily. "It wasn't me, John. It was you."

"Me? I don't think so, baby. She was pissed at me. I mean really pissed. And you did all of the talking. I just–"

"Held the baby. You have no idea, do you?" She smiled at him.

John followed her. "No idea of what?"

She stepped close. Kissed him. The baby cooed, catching his father's sleeve. "Oh darling, your father is so clueless sometimes, isn't he?" The baby grinned.

"Don't agree, captain." John gently freed his sleeve. "Moy...oh yeah..." His gaze traveled over her. "Fuck you look hot, baby! And no panties..."

"Shut up, John!" He laughed. She moved to the playpen, set the baby among his toys. "Ouch!" She whirled. John had swatted her rear hard.

"Pert little ass...I can feel every inch, baby."

"John! You can't mean to–"

He pulled her into his arms, kissed her. "I can mean to, baby, you better believe it!" His hands slid down to grab, squeeze her rear. "Pert little ass, baby," he fondly repeated. "I cannot resist it. All bare in there...rubbed rough by those harsh pants, huh?"

"John!" she laughed.

"I'm serious, Moy. And I can just imagine how roughly that fabric is rubbing your sweetness, every luscious inch of you, baby, and only I get to rub that fucking sweet little–"

"John! John, you..." she murmured as his hand slid between her legs. She kissed him. Grabbed as he abruptly lifted her, carried her to the bed. "John!" she laughed again.

"You don't have to cover for me, baby." He set her on the bed. Pushed her onto her back and followed after her. Onto her. "I'll take the flak, don't you worry."

"John, again?" she asked, startled. Squirming. She looked past him to see the baby playing with a toy, chortling. She moaned as his kisses ran down her throat. He was unbuttoning her shirt with nimble fingers. Shifting on top of her.

"Yes, Moy. You heard Elizabeth. She left us to it. And it...is this. Sex." He kissed her. A slow, savoring kiss. "You don't have to cover for me, baby," he repeated. "I'll handle it, not you. Never you, Moira."

She shifted as he ran his mouth to her breasts. "John...oh John...I was just trying to, to help..."

"So how?" He slid back up her, met her gaze. "How did you spin it on its head like that? 'Cause I didn't do a damn thing."

"But hold the baby. That." She kissed him. Ran her hands down his back. "Oh John..."

He broke from another kiss. "That? What? Holding junior?" He looked back to see the baby gurgling, sucking on a toy, staring round the confines of his playpen. "How?"

Moira turned his face to hers. Kissed him. "I shouldn't tell you this, sweetie, but when you are holding your son you are even more irresistible."

"Really? Huh. I'll have to remember that. I mean, I knew babies were chick magnets but I never needed any accessories."

She laughed. "I can believe that, sweetie. But when you are holding him...oh..." she sighed.

"Oh? Oh." He kissed her. "Does this work on you too, baby?"

"No. I'm immune. Well, almost..."

He smiled. "Almost? I'll have to work on that." The baby started to fuss. "Oh oh. Sounds like someone's upset again."

"He probably wants to play."

"So do I."

A knock sounded. John groaned, hid his face on her breasts. The baby fussed. Moira smiled. She patted John's shoulder. "Your call, sweetie." Another knock.

He lifted his head, sighed. "You know, it's a wonder we even managed to conceive a child, much less have sex."

She laughed. "I conceived. You impregnated."

"Yes, doctor." He kissed her. Sat. "Cover up the girls again, baby. Those beauties belong to John Sheppard only."

"Johns," she corrected, scrambling off the bed.

John laughed. Moved to the door, opened it. "What? Oh. Rodney, you–"

Rodney pushed him aside, entered the room. "I've just added the increased drives to the Jumper. I thought you'd be interested in a oh Moira, how's the device working?"

Moira turned, shirt buttoned. The baby exclaimed, staring up at Rodney. "Fine! It's brilliant, actually! Didn't John tell you?"

"I was getting around to it, Moira," John laconically noted. "So, drive pods? Go on."

"Yes! Go!" Moira smiled. She lifted the baby, kissed him. Handed him to his father. "Rodney, could you take the boys here to the ship and show them your improvements? I need them out of the way. I need to clean. This place is a pit!"

"Moira, I was–" John protested, holding his son.

"Here." Moira handed him a plush toy. "Take his plane plane. Go!" She kissed the baby. Kissed John.

"Fine, your highness. We'll go do some guy things and drink some beer. Back in an hour," John conceded.

"Make it two, John. Thank you, Rodney."

"Anytime, Moira...but I better get double pay for double babysitting duty." He smirked at John's glare, Moira's laugh. "Hey! I can test the kid's ATA on the–"

"My son is not a science experiment!" John followed his friend but whirled. He returned to Moira. "Stay commando, baby. I'll want to inspect that pert little ass and be sure its up to specs after that close confinement," he teased quietly.

She rolled her eyes, playfully pushed at him. "Will you just go, sweetie! And stop worrying about my ass!"

John laughed. "Can't, baby. It's all I think of. Going, going!" he ducked as she pretended to take a swing at him. "Come on, junior! Let's see what Uncle Rodney's done to our ship!"

"I've improved it, that's what!" Rodney snapped, but grinned hearing John's term of address.


	4. Chapter 4

Mutability4

Moira sipped her Coke, set it aside. She looked at the microscope poised on the table in front of her. She adjusted herself on the stool.

"Something?" Carson Beckett inquired, looking from his own data screen to see her staring at the equipment.

"What? Oh, not yet." She met his gaze, smiled. "I was just enjoying this. The quiet. The work. The chance to work now that Rodney is looking after both Johns."

Carson laughed. "Hope he's getting double pay for that, then."

Moira laughed. "That's what he said. This may sound bad, but I have missed...this." She gestured around the bio lab. "Working, I mean."

"That's not bad at all, love. There's nothing wrong with enjoying your work. You can do that and still be a good mother, a good wife," Carson assured, smiling. "You'll find a balance."

"I hope so...I just..." She sighed. Eyed the microscope. "It's not easy, Carson. We, we're both having troubles with all of it," she confided softly. "Johnny's really turned our worlds upside down."

"That's only to be expected, Moira. But you'll find a balance. Give it time. There's no rush."

"Well, there is, sort of. At least for John there is."

"Aye, more so than for you, I can imagine. Relax, Moira. You're home now. Everyone will help out if and when you need it."

"Thanks, Carson." She peered into the lens at last. "Peter was testing some of those Iratus bug eggs. Did he tell you?"

"Aye, and the results were far from conclusive. Even with human tissue. What exactly is it that you think you will find?"

"I'm not sure. The beginning? I don't think it started here. With the bugs, I mean. We're missing something. What about the retro-virus? What it did to John?" She straightened, met his gaze.

"I'm not following. It turned John into a bug. Well, not a bug but his system couldn't absorb and destroy the serum. Instead it transformed him into a Wraith. But not a true Wraith. Since Elia's blood was mixed in there too he was receiving a double dose of Wraith genome that had been mutated by the retro-virus." Carson turned to her on his stool, warming to the subject. "As you know, Moira. The retro-virus carries its genetic information in a simple strand of RNA rather than DNA. It has a particular enzyme called a reverse transcriptase. The enzyme translates RNA into DNA during infection of a host cell. The transcribed DNA is then integrated into the genome of the host cell. In John's particular case converting his human DNA into a Wraith hybrid DNA. To cure him we re-sequenced the cells of a full Iratus bug and designed them to seek out and destroy the alien elements in John's cells."

"And to do that you had to use the purest form...the stem cells from the embryonic eggs," Moira noted. "But you see? The Iratus bug alone couldn't change John into a Wraith. It was merely feeding on him. It took a different chemical reaction to change John's DNA. Somehow with the enzyme and the retro-virus...but that can't be it either because the retro-virus alters the Wraith."

"Aye. It strips the elements of the Iratus bug from the human DNA...but it is not stable and requires repeated injections of the subject to effect a lasting change. I'm afraid as a weapon it is not very effective. Not as effective as the Hoffan serum."

Moira nodded. "But that kills fifty percent of the human population that takes it, right? And it kills the Wraith by first blocking the enzyme so they cannot feed on the subject. Then it mutates in the Wraith bloodstream and poisons them. Causing catastrophic organ failure."

"Aye. Necrosis. Traumatic cell death resulting in permanent damage to the organism. The premature death of living tissue. Catastrophic, as you said. But the natural form is different."

"Different? How?" she asked.

"Just as you theorized there is a natural form. A natural defense, as it were, against the Wraith carried in the human genome, but not by everyone. Ronon has it. The same protein except for some significant differences from the Hoffan serum. The protein is harmless to him. And I believe it won't kill the Wraith. Just prevents them from feeding on him. My initial tests on Ronon's tissue caused apoptosis. A programmed cell death which confers advantages during an organism's lifetime. In the case of Ronon protecting him from the enzyme's invasion of his bloodstream, and hence from the Wraith."

Moira turned from the microscope. "It's all in the proteins, Carson! But we're still missing something! How did the Wraith come to be in the first place? How could two incompatible DNA strands join to form such an extraordinary and terrifying creature?"

"I have no idea, love," Carson sighed. "We've been concentrating on how to defeat them, destroy them, stop them. Not to understand them."

"I know. But if we can learn how they came to be we could find a weakness," she argued. Sighed. "Before I left to have Johnny I was concentrating on the RNA. Specifically the mRNA.

The messenger RNA that encodes a chemical blueprint for a protein product that is transcribed from a DNA template. It carries the coding into the sites of protein synthesis. The ribosomes."

"I agree there has to be a chemical reaction of some sort, but even that doesn't explain the startling genesis of two mutually exclusive species into one life form."

"We're missing a key element." Moira frowned, turned suddenly hearing a baby's gurgling. She smiled as John walked towards her, baby in his arms, pained expression on his face.

"Hey. I think I prefer the shorthand," he jested, shaking his head. "Junior here wanted to check on his mother."

"He did, did he?" she asked. "What happened to Rodney?"

"We ditched him," John said with a grin. "Although, his exposition on drive pods and Ancient crystals was a tad more interesting than your blah blah over proteins and whatever."

Carson smiled as the baby eyed him, grinning. "Seems wee Sheppard agrees with you, John."

"Of course he does. He's no scientist," John stated. Bounced the baby gently as the infant's little hands clutched his father's shirt. "Isn't that right, buddy? You're going to be a pilot, like me."

"We'll see," Moira remonstrated, causing John to playfully glare at her. The baby chortled. "See? He knows I have the last word."

"Not on this, Moira," John countered. "I told you. The next one can be a scientist. This one is going to be a pilot."

"The next one? My goodness, are you–"

"No!" Moira exclaimed at Carson's delight. "One kid at a time, please! Maybe only one." She turned back to the microscope. "Did you need something, John? Carson and I are busy here."

John was staring at her, wondering at her words. "Huh? Oh...no. I should get back to Rodney. He might have noticed we ditched him if he's finished talking."

"Maybe not even then," Carson jested, causing laughter.

"Go!" Moira stood. Kissed the baby. Wiped his mouth. Kissed John. "Go back to your ships and your guns, colonel."

"Was what that all about anyway?"

"Collation. Go, would you?" Moira gently pushed but John didn't move. Didn't budge as the baby gurgled, staring at his mother.

"Okay. I can tell when I'm not wanted and–"

"Can you really? Go!" She pushed again. The baby giggled. "See? Johnny can tell."

"Fine, your highness. We're going. Women," he muttered. Turned and strolled out of the bio lab. "Let me tell you, son, they are a separate species, I swear! When you get old enough to date them you'll find out exactly what I'm talking about..."

Moira smiled, turned back to Carson. "Men. Shall we continue?"

Carson smiled. "All right, love. Where the heck were we?"

"...and if you need to increase the power you could always just think about it. I mean that ATA gene of yours seems to power the ship with a mere thought. Amazing, when you think about it. HA! Pun intended, of course, and now with the drive pods ratio accelerated to these dimensions it shouldn't have any trouble retracting or...John?"

John smirked as he stepped into the ship. "Told you, buddy. Didn't even notice our little sojourn," he said quietly. The baby gurgled. "Yeah, whatever, Rodney."

Rodney popped up from underneath the console. "Were you here the entire time?" Suspicious he eyed his friend. Eyed the baby grinning at him.

"Of course. Where else would we be? So...drive pods? Fully functional, I'm trusting?"

"Of course! More than functional now with the additional...you were here the entire time?"

"Yes." John sat in the pilot's seat, setting the baby onto his lap. "Let's just see, shall we? Whoa, junior!" The baby exclaimed, reaching for the controls. The ship lifted awkwardly.

"What the!" Rodney jumped to his feet, slid round to the co-pilot's seat, staring at the baby as John gently freed the control stick from the infant. "Did he–"

"Yeah. I told you zoom zoom. Easy, son, you're too young yet!" The baby whimpered, fussing as he was denied the controls. "Easy, there." John landed the ship. Activated the HUD and scanned the displays. The baby pointed one stubby finger, entranced by the lights. "Yeah, I see it, junior. Drive pods at one hundred percent capability."

"Of course." But Rodney was staring at the baby. "John? His ATA must be pretty damn strong to do that at such an early age."

"It is."

"But I mean...it must be really strong. I mean even with yours and Moira's combined it shouldn't be that strong. As strong as Moira's when she had the double when she was pregnant."

John stared at the readouts. Debating. He gently drew the infant back as once more the baby reached, whining, wanting the control stick. Little fingers extended but only grasping empty air.

"Something like that," he hedged. Powered down. "Easy, son. You can't play here yet." He glanced at Rodney. Saw his friend's thoughtful gaze. "Look, it's no big deal."

"No big deal? Have you tested his ATA? It looks to be off the charts, John, which doesn't make any sense in itself. It's not like he's got yours and Moira's combined. It's an allele, a unique form of a single gene inherited from either you or Moira, not both of you. It doesn't work that way."

"And how would you know all that?" John challenged.

"When I was researching the gene and how it activates the systems here. Plus the gene therapy," Rodney explained. Gaze on the infant again as the baby was fussing. Little hands on his father's hands as if he could escape the paternal grasp. "It must be quite the dominant gene to have expressed itself so strongly in the kid there."

"Yeah, something like that," John evaded. "Easy, junior. No."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing. Nothing!" John stood, swung the baby high to make him chortle with delight. "Here we go, buddy! Up and away!" He lowered the baby, bounced him gently. "Let's go. Ship looks fine to me."

"What aren't you telling me, John?" Rodney persisted, following his friend out of the ship. "The kid's okay, isn't he?"

"He's fine. We should go check on Moira."

"John! What aren't you telling me?"Rodney repeated, following.

"Ssh! He's settling," John remonstrated, as the baby rested his head on his father's shoulder. "There now, junior. Time for a nap, huh? I know, all that science puts me out too."

"Colonel? Um...is this yours?"

John and Rodney turned at the voice. A marine was holding up a stuffed pale blue plane. Rodney snorted. John moved to the marine who was trying to hide his amusement. "Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you. My son's, actually. His plane plane. I mean his plane." John took the toy, the gravity of his voice causing Rodney to snort with amusement.

"Yes, sir."

"Are you sure it's not yours, John?" Rodney asked.

John's gaze narrowed at his friend. "Ha ha. No, I play with the real ones. Go eat something. I've got to get junior settled."

"Then we're off to MRX432, once Lorne returns from his mission. Apparently there was some kind of power fluctuation in their shielding devices and I was thinking we could always borrow one of their ZPMs as payment for services rendered, once I render them, that is. And yes, before you protest like Elizabeth did I mean borrow, not steal. Borrow...for a length of time to be left unspecified, that is. What?"

John was staring at his friend, holding the fussing baby. An expression of surprise, then dismay on his face. "A mission? I mean...we have a–"

"Yes! Haven't you been listening to me?" Rodney snapped. "Once your number two returns. Didn't Elizabeth tell you? Oh, I guess you've been busy with the kid there. Anyway, it's not a new planet, we've been there before, so it should be smooth sailing. I think I'll go get something to eat now. John?"

John blinked. "Yeah...you do that. I'll take care of junior here." Yet as Rodney moved away John stood in the hallway. Trying to combat the sudden sinking feeling he was experiencing. Like a rookie who had never been through the Stargate. He frowned. Shoved the uneasiness aside. "Let's go, junior. Your mother will not be pleased."


	5. Chapter 5

Mutability5

John carried the baby into his quarters. "Moy! You should have seen...oh." John stared. Moira was on the newly made bed, curled on her side. He smiled. The baby stirred, cooing. "Ssh, junior. Mommy's tired." He kissed the baby, set him in his cradle. "So are you, captain." John looked round the room. It was clean. Clear of clutter.

Moira stirred, hearing the baby and her husband's voice. "Johnny?" she muttered, moving.

"He's fine, Moy. Don't move." John turned back to the cradle. "Ssh, captain. Here we go." He gave the baby his toy, his blanket.

"Need to turn on the device," Moira said. Opened her eyes.

"I know, Moira. Hold on, captain." John nudged the cradle. Placed his hand into it to feel the gentle vibration of the motion detector. Heard the low, soothing hum. He tickled the baby's tummy, making the infant gurgle, grin sleepily. "There we go, junior." John straightened, crossed to the nursery. The room was organized. Boxes stacked on one side. Bags unpacked. Baby things dominating. A space near the bed had been cleared, no doubt in preparation for the crib. He smiled. "Wow...you've been busy, baby."

John moved back to her. Spooned against her as he reclined on the bed. His arm slid over her waist. He shifted against her rear. "Ah. Still commando, sweetheart? I could use a nap myself."

Moira smiled. Snuggled into him as he kissed her throat, her cheek. She caressed his arm. "John, did Johnny like the ship?"

"He loved it, Moy! A natural born pilot! You should have seen him trying to take the controls! The ship lifted! It lifted and powered up, Moira! Rodney nearly had a seizure!"

"He's probably trying to imitate you. And he has an affinity for Ancient tech."

"True, but what better way to learn?" John countered. Pride evident in his voice. But he frowned. "Rodney suspects there's more than just a strong ATA gene. I didn't say anything. But he might figure it out. About junior."

Moira stroked his arm. "We may have to tell him, John. We can trust Rodney. Just don't let him make our son into his next science project. He's not a ZPM."

"I already told him that, Moira. Don't you worry." He considered. "Yeah...we may have to tell him. But the fewer who know about Johnny's double the better." He kissed up her throat. Moved his body along hers. "Pert little ass...so sweet..."

"Later, sweetie. I'm tired."

"From all that science?"

She laughed. "No! From cleaning our rooms. I didn't get to those bigger boxes. That can be your purview, colonel. Like the crib. What's in those big ones anyway? Another woman?"

He laughed. "Yeah. You got me, Moira. A spare. I wasn't sure you'd ever want sex again after having junior so...a contingency plan."

"I wasn't sure either, sweetie. I'm serious! You try pushing out a eight pound baby! Eight pounds, John! It made me re-think this whole procreation thing."

"Hmm...understandable, Moy. But it doesn't preclude recreational sex, does it? Sex for recreational purposes?"

She smiled. "No...not at all, sweetie. Just keep your damn sperm to yourself, colonel."

He chuckled. "I'll try, baby." He kissed her. Grew serious. "You know, Moy, we never discussed it."

"What? Oh, the flight squadron you want?"

"Yeah. I mean having another child. I think Johnny should have a sibling, at least."

"Okay–"

"Listen to me, Moira, I'm not saying right away. I mean let's get Johnny out of diapers and all that first. I certainly didn't mean a kid a year or anything like...oh? Okay?"

She turned to him. Kissed him. "I agree with you, John. He should have a sibling. Just not now. We can barely handle one baby, let alone two! Let's get the first one out of diapers and toilet trained first."

He smiled. "Fine by me. So...that just leaves recreational sex?"

"I think so, colonel. But tonight. I'm tired. And these pants..." She sighed prettily, fingers running along his chest, "these pants have been rubbing and rubbing between my legs all day." She took his hand, guided it to her crotch. "Would you kiss it and make it all better, sweetie? Before you engage that big, hard ordnance of yours?"

John smiled. Caressed. "Your mouth, baby. Don't you worry. I'll take care of you. Every inch." He kissed her. "Every sweet inch of you, baby." He undid her pants. Unzipped them. He glanced at the cradle. "He's asleep, Moy. Why not let me tend to your sensitive ordnance now?"

Moira kissed him, fingers pulling at his shirt. "I thought you were tired, sweetie."

"I'm never too tired for sex, baby," he countered. He sat, fingers gliding into her pants. Encountering no panties to hinder or block him. "How's that, baby? I'll make it all better. Hmm...what about that pert little ass? I don't want anything irritating that beautiful specimen." He withdrew his fingers expectantly.

Moira rolled her eyes. "It always comes back to that for you, doesn't it?" she noted.

He smiled. "Yes. Roll over."

"John–"

"Roll over. I want to make damn sure that pert little ass isn't sore, or irritated."

She eyed him. Knew what he wanted. She glanced at the cradle. The baby was sleeping. Mouth open near his toy. Moira lifted, shaking her hips side to side as John pulled the pants off of her. She rolled onto her stomach. John smiled. Pushed her shirt out of the way and stared happily at her bare rear. "John?"

"It's so fucking perfect, Moy," he praised, voice serious. "Men would die to see it like this."

She sighed, propped herself up on her elbows. "Hilarious, John! You have the strangest obsession with my oh!" She gasped as his hand ran over her rear. Caressing.

"Such perfection, Moy. I'm not kidding." He gently squeezed each cheek. Abruptly ran his mouth along her lower back, down to her rear. Moira murmured, moving, arching. Legs opening but she stopped them. Softly moaned as he gently bit, hands sliding between her legs, up her inner thighs. Along her delicate folds, feeling her wetness, her heat.

"John, John...oh John..." she whispered, whimpered as he kissed along her side. Gently nibbled her hip, her rear again as his fingers probed, searching.

"I want it, Moy," he said gruffly. Voice low. "I want to fuck it so sweetly you will weep. Up."

"Huh?" Moira was losing herself in the swirl of desire, lust, love.

"Up. On your knees, baby."

She moved onto her knees, grabbing the headboard, tensing. John smiled. Squeezed her rear, spread her thighs wider. She waited, hearing him unzipping his pants. The rustle of clothing as he removed his boots, his pants. His shorts. She waited. Waited. Finally looked over her shoulder, wondering at the delay. "John? You...oh!" she exclaimed as he laid on his back. Slid under her, between her legs. Hands sliding up her inner thighs. "John!" she scolded, flustered, aroused at his angle, his stare, his caresses along her skin.

"Hold still, baby. I'm going to give you a very, very thorough perimeter check." His voice was low, gruff. The husky, lustful edge shivering along her skin and making her lower body tighten. Flood in response. He moved up, kissing her inner thigh. Fingers gliding to her rear to gently and repeatedly squeeze.

Moira gasped, arching. She clutched the brass bars of the headboard tightly as his mouth moved across her mound, nibbling with delicate precision on her folds. The incredible intimacy made her blush, moan. Shift but his hands held her rear, keeping her in place as he teased, tormented. Tongue thrusting now, scruffy jaw a sensual scratching as he delved. Lifting up into her, seeking to suck, to nibble. Fingers sliding down to find other erotic areas. "John! John!" Moira exclaimed breathlessly. An impassioned sob escaping her lips as waves of pleasure overwhelmed. "John! Oh John, John, please, please John, John!"

John freed her as his erection throbbed. He slid down, moved to his knees behind her. Hands on her rear, pulling her out towards him. He splayed her thighs wide and eased himself into her. Groaned at the exquisite sensations. Her clenching muscles drawing him further, faster. Slick and hot to take all of him. "Ah fuck, baby! Fuck!"

Moira cried out as he thrust hard. She arched, whimpering as he began a steady, relentless rhythm. "John! Oh John, John, John!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Hold on, baby!" he warned, grunting with each wild exertion. A quick rhythm bringing them to a mutual satisfaction, a mutual release.

"John! John! John!" Moira cried loudly to each successive thrust, each successive possession as the climax drove her wild, drove into a tide of pleasure and sensuality. Her raised voice only aroused John intensely. Made the baby stir at the strange commotion next to him.

John yanked her to him. Hands sliding up to her breasts, shoving under the shirt and the bra. Thrusting up, up, up as if he would throw her off the bed. His mouth nibbled her throat. His hot breath caressing her skin. His grunting satisfaction in her ear. His male scent all over her as he came. Arching and straining with shudders as he slowed, slowed.

Moira was trembling with the intensity, barely able to keep upright. "John..." she whimpered.

He leaned on her, breathing heavily. "Fuck oh fuck that was fucking sweet!" He freed her breasts, slid his hands down to her mound. Plied the cleft as he slid out of her at last. Moira nearly fell, squirming at his touches, his heat. He freed her, collapsed onto his back. "Mouth."

Moira fell onto him, kissed him. Small moaning sounds trapped in her throat as she kept her mouth entwined with his. Her body squirming on top of his. John returned her kisses, arms around her. His tongue sliding into her mouth, as if he would kiss her forever. Finally she slid off him, snuggled next to him. He turned to face her. She hit his chest, cuddled. Drew back from him. She pulled his shirt up, needing to feel his body, his skin on hers. Obligingly he sat, pulled off the shirt, reclined. Moira hit him again, snuggled, hiding her face against him. His chest hair coarse on her face, on her breasts. "I hate that, John! I hate it when you do that to me!"

John smiled. Held her close after pulling a blanket over them. He glanced at the cradle. The baby had fallen back asleep. "Do what? Pleasure you beyond your wildest dreams?"

She hit him. "No! Yes! No! I hate it when you take me like that! Make me so loud, so out of control! So intense, John!"

He kissed her cheek. "Very intense, baby," he agreed. "Just the way I like our sex. Loud. Intense. Exuberant. I can't even feel my cock right now. Or my tongue." He stroked her back. Enjoying the feel of her body pressed to his. He waited. Waited. "Well? Sweetheart? That's it? No Moira storm?"

"No. Too tired," she whispered, warm and secure in his arms. "Too pleasured, sweetie. Oh John...John...is Johnny awake?"

"He went back to sleep. He is certainly used to having his parents being very, um, happy. Very. And remember, Moira, he had all that turbulence training earlier."

She laughed. "True, John. Lots of turbulence. Oh John..." she sighed happily. "I can still feel you in me, sweetie, every hard, long inch of you...I swear it's gotten bigger!"

He laughed. Kissed her. "Maybe it has, baby. I'm exhausted! Let's stay like this and take a nap, Moira. I love this. My Moira."


	6. Chapter 6

Mutability6

Moira abruptly woke. The baby was fussing, his noises growing in volume, in pitch. Conveying his unhappiness. John was snoring loudly. Moira was sprawled on top of him, their half naked bodies entwined. She slid off her husband, nudged him. "John? John!" She pushed. "John!" He stirred, snorted, rolled onto his side, quieting.

Moira shook her head. Kissed his shoulder. She pulled her shirt around her and moved to the cradle. "Now darling, what is the matter?" She lifted him. "Oh! Well, no wonder you're upset, Johnny. Ssh." She kissed him. "Let's not wake daddy just yet. Here we go." She carried him to the changing table. "Easy, now, darling. It will be fine. Daddy has to leave us, you know. But he'll come back to us. He always will. He has to do his job. He can't be here with us all of the time now. He has to go on the next mission and we'll be fine. We'll manage somehow, Johnny. Just you and me. I promise, I promise we'll manage all of this somehow when John isn't here." Her voice was soft, fraught with emotion as a wave of tears blurred her sight. The baby whimpered, even as she deftly changed his diaper. "It's all right, ssh, ssh, it's all right." Moira lifted him, turned suddenly. But John hadn't moved.

She set the baby in the playpen. "Here you go, Johnny. Just a second, okay?" She entered the bathroom. Wiped her eyes, trying to calm herself. Knew she couldn't let John see this unbidden panic, this sudden despair over his leaving her. She washed her face. Stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was loose, wildly unkempt. Lips rosy. Slightly swollen. Her brown eyes glittering with tears, sorrow. Quickly she doused the emotions. Dried her face. Returned as the baby started to cry.

John was staring at the wall, his back to the playpen. His son's insistent cries had awoken him. Then Moira's soft voice, threaded with panic, with sorrow. He shifted, listening to every word. Considered. Pretended to be asleep as he heard her return, his son's louder cries. He smiled. Caught for a moment by the sheer happiness he felt. Wondered if he had ever been this blissfully happy. Pleasantly drained after passionate sex with Moira. Listening as she soothed the baby. Their son. Conceived in love, in passion. His own little family. Safe. Protected. With him. But her words concerned him. Recalled he would in fact be in leaving in a few days.

He felt Moira sit on the bed. Her soft words dissolved into a pleasant humming. Then his son's noisy suckling. John realized what it meant, could imagine it. He felt himself stir at the thought. He rolled onto his back to see her sitting near, her back to him as she suckled the infant. "He's hungry again?"

Moira glanced over her shoulder at John's sleepy voice. She smiled. His hair was wildly disordered. Shadows of stubble lined his face. His full, perfect lips were forming a smile. His brilliant green eyes met hers. She wondered at the solemnity in them. "Your son is as insatiable as you are, sweetie."

He laughed. "Well, it's no wonder, baby. With those fucking beautiful–"

"Shut up," she said mildly, turned back to focus on the baby.

John sat. Scooted behind her. He looked over her shoulder to see his son taking his fill. Big blue eyes on his mother. Little hands opening and closing on her hair. "Beautiful," he whispered in her ear. Kissed her throat. His arm slid around her to touch his son's arm. "I was just thinking, Moy, if–"

"Oh oh," she muttered. "No more sex, John. No kinky. Baby in the room. Awake now. Your baby, colonel."

"My son. You're my baby, sweetheart. No, not that." He watched as she gently maneuvered her finger into the baby's mouth to free her nipple. Switched breasts as the baby sucked. Paused. Looked puzzled, tiny brows furrowing. Moira pulled out her finger. Guided his mouth to her other breast. He eagerly caught the nipple, sucked noisily.

"What then?" she prompted to John's silence. She covered her other breast, very aware of John watching intently. So close behind her. Warm. Solid. His warm breath tickling her skin. "John?"

"Fuck," he softly swore. "That just gave me a hard-on, Moy. I forgot what I was going to say."

"Hilarious, John." She caressed the baby's rosy cheek as he paused. Eyed his father. "It's all right, darling."

"Why is he looking at me like that?" John asked. The baby was staring at him. Tiny brows furrowed again.

Moira smiled. "You get that same look when we are interrupted. Maybe he likes his privacy."

"Do I? Oh...privacy? Yeah." John sat back from her. "Better?"

Moira smiled at the baby, kissed his brow. The baby resumed sucking, eyes on her again. He caught her finger in one little hand. " Yes. He thinks so."

John caressed her back, looking over her shoulder again. "We Sheppards do like our privacy, Moy. Especially during intimate moments. But I am his father." He kissed her throat up to her ear. "Only a Sheppard gets to suck those fucking beautiful tits, baby," he teased.

"John!" she scolded. He quietly laughed. "John, what were you going to say?"

"Hmm? When?"

"You said you were thinking. About what?"

"You. Me. Him." John sat back as Moira freed her breast. Closed the shirt. She sat the baby upright and gently patted his back. "Nothing. Just some stupid, silly, cheesy romantic crap. That's all," he evaded. Deciding not to reveal what he had overheard. Deciding not to upset her.

Moira met John's gaze. "Really? You? Are you feeling all right, colonel?"

"Hilarious, Moira. I–" The baby burped loudly. Grinned. John smiled. "That's my boy!"

Moira laughed. "Men. You are all the same."

John laughed. Moira stood. Held the baby at her shoulder and paced. "Keep working on it, Johnny. I know you've got more. Just like your father."

"You got that right, baby. Are you sure you're not dispensing beer?"

She laughed. "No!" She turned to face him. "Tell me, John. I want to hear the stupid, silly, cheesy romantic crap. You hardly ever say that stuff as it is."

"Can I at least get dressed first?" he asked, already reaching for his t-shirt. "I'm starving!"

"Then move that fine, fine ass of yours, colonel. I'm hungry as well." She watched him leap off the bed, pulling on his clothes as he moved to the bathroom. "I swear, sweetie, the finest six in the galaxy!"

"Damn right, baby!" he agreed. "And it's all yours!"

"Damn right, sweetie!" she called after him. "And the ordnance that goes with it! And that luscious, luscious mouth! And those deliciously strong, muscled arms! And that fine, fine–"

"Enough!" John scolded, laughing. "You'll give me another hard-on and I'd like to eat first."

She giggled. "Sorry, sweetie! Stand down, colonel."

"Yes, ma'am!" He moved to the threshold between the two rooms after washing his face, his hands. Straightening his clothes. He stopped. Moira was on the floor, the baby in front of her on a blanket. She was playing with his little feet as the infant giggled and cooed. Blue eyes bright. Moira kissed him, wiggled his little feet. She looked over at John suddenly. Saw the naked emotion on his face. The love. The joy.

"John? Do you have something in your eye?" she gently teased.

"What?" he asked, jolted out of his overwhelming emotions. "No. No!" He wiped his eyes angrily. Irritated at being exposed. Embarrassed. "It's not funny!"

"No, it's not," she agreed. "It's beautiful. The way you look at us sometimes. It's..." She felt her own tears and eyed the baby. "I...I know."

"Know what?" he snapped.

"I know," she repeated softly. "Those feelings. Like it's almost too good to be true. Like you've never felt anything like this and the minute you try to describe it you know it will disappear. Like you fear it will all dissolve if you blink or look away, because this isn't...things like this don't happen to us. Not to us, John. Sometimes...I get so full of emotion when I see you with him. Here, with me. With us. I nearly choke on it. The joy. So much to lose if...we don't deserve this. We'll end up losing this, because that's what always happens. We're not supposed to have this. We're not supposed to be this happy. Are we? Not us. Not like this. If, if it was taken away from us it would be unbearable. And that little voice, that little voice once in a while says that it will be taken...everything taken..."

The baby was quiet. Staring up at his mother solemnly as she seemed to look beyond him. Through him. Her expression somber, voice serious. John stared at her. It was like she had read his mind. His every emotion, his overwhelming joy, his darkest fears. He moved to sit next to her. His arm sliding around her waist, drawing her close. "Yes," he admitted. Eyes on his son who looked at him. John touche the infant's stomach, chest. Tickled to make the baby smile, grin, gurgle. Grab his father's fingers.

Moira rested her hand on John's shoulder. "Nothing is going to take this from us, John," she assured. "Nothing will break our little circle."

John kissed her brow. "Nothing ever will," he agreed. "I don't know if we deserve it or not, Moira. But it's ours. Nothing will ever change that. Nothing will be taken from us."

"John, do you think our, our darkness will taint him?" she asked softly, secure in his arms.

"No. It won't, Moira. We're here to protect him from that. He'll never know that darkness. Never. I won't allow it. Nothing touches our little circle," he vowed. He kissed her. His mouth a gentle pressure on hers. She nodded, silent. "So...are you developing a foot fetish, baby?" he teased to lighten the mood. "Because I've got feet too, you know."

She smiled. "Oh, I know, sweetie...big, long feet...just like rest of you. Johnny's are so cute, so little!"

"Like the rest of him, yeah," John agreed. Smiled. "But he'll grow fast. Sheppards don't waste any time."

"That's certainly true, colonel." She kissed him.

John lifted the baby. "Let's go, captain! I'm still starving. Oh..." he smirked, eying his wife. "Um, Moy, you better change your shirt or every man in Atlantis is going to be very, very happy."

"What?" She looked down to see two wet spots clinging to her nipples. "Damn it!" She stood, moved to the dresser. "Between you and your son I can hardly stay dry! I'm always wet in some way!"

John burst into laughter as he set the baby into his stroller.

Moira changed her bra, her shirt. "It's not funny, John! Stop it!" But she giggled as his hilarity continued. She smoothed down the brown t-shirt, sighed. Pulled on a blue and brown woven shirt and adjusted the fabric strategically to cover each breast. She turned to see John still laughing, wiping his eyes. "John! Damn it, stop that! It's not funny! It wasn't that funny, was it? Are you giddy, honey?"

John smiled. Met her irritated gaze. "I'm fine, sweetheart. And yes, it's that funny. More so since you were so serious about it. Let's go, Moira. Before you spring a leak again. Somewhere." His gaze raked along her body with speculation.

"John!" She hit his arm as he laughed. Wheeled the baby out of the room.

"Told you I should have joined the navy," John quipped, causing her to snort with amusement.


	7. Chapter 7

Mutability7

Moira pushed the stroller through the cafeteria. The baby was prattling, little hands slapping the stroller's front bar as he happily, loudly gurgled to everyone in passing. Moira smiled apologetically as he drew all the attention. Most smiled. A few scowled. She moved to a table at the far end of the room. Sat and pulled the stroller to face her. "Johnny, hush! Not so loud!" The baby grinned at her, gurgled. Prattled and slapped at the bar again with his little hands. Moira smiled, kissed him. "Ssh, darling! I'm glad you are so happy but you need to be quieter now." She held up his pacifier but he pushed it aside with a giggle.

John smiled, looking towards them as his son's happy, nonsensical sounds carried all the way across the room.

"Does that kid have a volume button?" joked Rodney as he joined his friend in the line.

"No. He's happy. And when Sheppards are happy they are loud. In more ways than one," John added smugly.

"Yeah, we all noticed that!" The men laughed.

"My, what a chatty little lad you've got here!" Carson smiled as he reached Moira. "May I?"

"Caron, of course!" Moira smiled as the doctor sat across from her. "He's very happy today."

"Good." Carson eyed the infant. "So, my wee Sheppard, why are you so very happy today? You look well chuffed, don't you?" The baby quieted, staring in amazement.

Moira laughed. "You've captivated him, Carson."

Carson smiled. "It's the accent. Soon we'll have you talking proper, my lad."

"My son is not going to talk with a Scottish accent," John temporized, sitting next to his wife. He set down two trays laden with food. "No offense, doc."

"None taken, colonel. You really should reconsider, however. It does a number on the ladies." He winked at Moira who laughed.

"He doesn't need that. He's a Sheppard," John retorted.

"Och, you're right there. What about an Irish one?"

Moira smiled. "Yes, to be sure that 'twould be a fine thing," she said in an Irish brogue, "having a wee bairn that speaks with the tongue of the Emerald isle itself." The baby stared at her, mouth open. Startled. Moira laughed, kissed him. "It's all right, darling," she assured in her normal voice. "It's me."

"Don't confuse him, Moira," John chided. "He can talk like me."

"Oh, not that much, then," she teased. Laughter. The baby gurgled, grinned at his father.

"You think that's funny, buddy? Ha ha." John smiled as the baby commenced his babble again.

"Johnny, ssh!"

"Let him express himself, Moira," John countered.

"He's annoying a few–"

John stood. "Excuse me!" he announced, drawing all eyes to him. All conversations ceased. "Is my son," he stressed the words proudly, "annoying anyone here?"

"John!" Moira whispered, embarrassed. The baby prattled, oblivious. A chorus of nos filled the air.

"Good. He's very happy today." John sat, eyed his wife. "What? If anyone has a problem with him they have a bigger problem with me."

"Does that include me, colonel?" she asked.

"Of course not, Moira." He paused. "I always have a problem with you." Laughter.

She elbowed him. "Hilarious, John. Ssh, darling." She leaned to kiss the baby, give him a toy.

"Let him be. All that blah blah blah is exactly what I hear when Rodney talks," John quipped.

"Hey!" Rodney objected, as laughter erupted. He sat next to Carson. "If that's true then the kid is going to be a brilliant physicist! He's already a supercharged battery."

"Rodney!" Moira scolded. "He is not a battery!"

"All right, he's not a battery. More like a ZPM charger. Hey! I should try hooking him up to the ZPM unit and then–"

"No!" John and Moira said at the same time.

Carson laughed. "You heard them, Rodney! Let the wee lad be just a baby for awhile, all right? He's too young to be your next pet project."

"Thank you, Carson," Moira said. "That goes for you too, colonel. John wants him to pilot a ship already!"

John smiled. "You can never start too young, Moira. He's got a natural aptitude."

Rodney laughed. "How can you tell? He is a drooling, yammering infant! You can't tell how good he will be at anything...except as a battery charger."

"Funny, you drool and yammer and are somewhat okay at science," John retorted. Laughter.

The baby grinned, clumsily clapping his hands. John grinned at him. "That's right, junior! Don't you take any lip from him!"

"Oh, like he understands you," Rodney scoffed.

"If course he does. Don't you, buddy?" The baby gurgled happily at his father. Looked at his mother as she leaned close to adjust his blanket and wipe his chin.

"There, darling. Don't tease your Uncle Rodney."

Rodney beamed. "Did you hear that, Carson? Uncle Rodney!"

"Aye, and I'm Uncle Carson, and I'm sure there's a dozen others so don't be obnoxious."

"Yeah, yeah, there's probably–" Rodney began to concede grumpily.

"No," Moira interrupted. "Here you go, Johnny. Here's your plane plane." She held the toy for the baby to grab, to suck.

"Moira?" John asked.

She turned to see the men staring at her. "Of course there's Uncle Rodney and Uncle Carson. And Uncle Ronon." She resumed eating.

The men exchanged glances. John shook his head before either could speak. "All right, sweetheart." The baby freed his toy, began his noisy babbling again.

"You're right, John. He does sound like Rodney going on about quantum whatever," Carson jested, diverting the conversation.

Rodney scowled, eyed Moira. "So what about Uncle Evan?" he asked, deliberately not taking the hint. "Or isn't he on your uncle list?"

"Rodney," John warned, voice low.

"What? It's just a question. I mean, Moira's still on his team, right? Not that she'll be going anywhere soon, but still I just thought that he'd be one of the–"

"Rodney! That's enough!" John ordered sternly, although he had been wondering the exact same thing. He glanced at Moira who had turned to the baby. The infant has stopped babbling at his father's tone. Started to cry.

"John!" Moira flared. "Look what you've done! You know he hates that tone of voice from you!" She stood. Wheeled the baby away from the table.

"Moira? Moira!" John sighed, glanced at his friends. "Thanks a lot! Look what you've done!" he flared.

"What? All I did was ask a question!" Rodney retorted, shaking his head as John stood. He glanced at Carson who was frowning at him. "What?"

Moira wheeled the infant quickly through the halls. The baby stopped crying, gurgled as the speed of his ride made him bounce. He babbled happily again, looking round. Big blue eyes taking in everything. Moira wheeled him to their quarters, as if running from the question, from the swarm of emotions threatening to overtake her. She lifted him out of the stroller. "Here we go, Johnny." She kissed him, set him into his playpen. Gave him his blanket, his toy. Crossed into the nursery.

John entered his quarters. Saw his son playing and babbling in the playpen. "Moira?" He moved to the playpen, knelt. "Hey, buddy, we're okay, right?" He tickled the baby. Lifted him. "Here we go, captain." He made plane noises, held the infant high over his head. Moved him gently in the air. The baby prattled happily, grinning and laughing. John smiled. "Zoom zoom, junior!"

Moira stood in the open threshold, watching as John lowered the baby. Lifted him again and steered him round, making noises. The baby gurgled, trying to imitate his father. John lowered him, kissed him. Gave him a sloppy raspberry on the arm. The baby laughed in delight. John laughed. Held the infant high again, then to his shoulder, gently bouncing.

"That's my boy." He turned, saw Moira watching. Her smile, her love and emotions. John shrugged. Raised a brow seeing the beer bottle in her hand. "I take it that's not for me...or for him, sweetheart?"

"No. But I can share. With you." She moved to the bed. Sat. Opened it. Sipped. Grimaced.

John smirked at her expression. He set the baby into the playpen. "There you go, captain. Take five." He sat next to Moira. Took the beer and drank a long swallow. "So?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She took the bottle from him. Drank a long swallow and grimaced at the taste. She glanced at the baby. He was quieter, clumsily trying to crawl.

John took the bottle from her. Took two deep, long swallows. Licked his lips. "Fine by me, sweetheart. I hate this crap anyway. Talking. About stuff. Emotions. Stuff."

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" she snapped. Grabbed the beer and drank.

"Okay, Moy. And I agreed." He took the bottle. Sipped. "I can think of nothing worse than having to pry out your conflicted emotions over Lorne right now. To listen to another Moira storm or nitpicking analysis of that particular relationship, and why you two haven't spoken to each other since before we left for Earth. Yes," he said to her surprise, "I have noticed."

Moira took the bottle. Sipped. Grimaced. "Next time I'll grab a bottle of wine. It's much more palatable."

He smiled. Took the bottle and drained it dry. "Ah. Maybe, but not as satisfying." He licked his lips. Leaned back to set the empty bottle on the table. "So?"

She sighed. Wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. Gaze on the baby as he watched them, sucking on a toy. "I don't want to talk about it," she repeated.

"Okay. As I said. Fine by me. Should we just have sex then?"

She smiled, met his appraising gaze. "Hilarious, John."

"I'm serious, Moira. You don't want to talk. That just leaves one option."

"Just one?"

"Yes. One." He glanced at the playpen. Stood. "Johnny's about to fall asleep. Good timing, don't you think?" H e lifted the baby. "Come on, captain. You're all babbled out now, aren't you? Going on and on and on just like your mother." He kissed the baby. Set him into the cradle. Gave him his blanket, his plane. "I do agree, Moira, that he doesn't need half of Atlantis as his uncle. Only a select few. I just assumed, well, that you would include Lorne in that list. You two had worked on a rapproachment, hadn't you? Before we left for Earth? I won't be angry if you want to include him, Moira. To repair your friendship. As long as it stays that way. As long as he never, never touches you or approaches you like that again." He gently stroked the baby's side as the infant fell asleep. "There we go. Nice and gentle, captain. Ssh." He looked at the bed. At Moira.

Moira was staring at him, tears sparkling in her brown eyes. "I...I just...I 've been so, so busy, John! With you. With our son. The baby. And all of our stuff, his stuff...the...no." She looked down at her hands. Laced her fingers together. "I don't know what to say to him."

John moved to her, sat next to her. Touched her thigh. "You don't have to say anything, Moira. If you don't want to talk to him. But if you do, well...I bet you a caramel fudge that he's waiting for you to make the first move. It's your decision, sweetheart."

"Caramel fudge?"

He smiled as she met his gaze. "Yes. Sheppard's delight." He grew serious. "Whatever you want to do, Moira."

She sighed. "That's just it, John. I don't know what to do." She leaned against him, taking hold of his arm. "John...what should I do?"

He kissed her brow. "That depends on what you want, Moy. What do you want?"


	8. Chapter 8

Mutability8

Moira considered. A host of emotions and words came and went in her mind. But she drowned them all, snuggling next to her husband as she still had hold of his arm. "I want...I want..." She ran kisses up his throat. Pressing her body to his, turning slightly so her breasts were pushing at his arm. "I want you."

He smiled. "Apart from me, I meant," he corrected.

"Oh." she ran kisses along his throat again. Circled his ear and gently bit. "You. Johnny. Caramel fudge."

"I'm trying to be serious, Moira," he remonstrated. Yet his fingers stroked up and down her thigh. "Do you want to resume your friendship?"

"Hmm...I might be mistaken, colonel, but I think we have much, much more than a friendship," she teased. She kissed his jaw, trailed her mouth to his lips. Slow, savoring kisses. S he nibbled his lower lip, tongue flicking along his as her mouth joined with his. Her fingers freed his arm to stray along his lap.

John smiled, catching her hand. "Yes, baby, we are much, much more. But I didn't mean us. Focus, Moy."

She stood. Straddled his lap. Kissed him, arms sliding up around his neck. "I want Sheppard's delight, sweetie. With fudge. Lots of fudge. Oh John."

After several kisses he gently guided her back a little. "If that's what you want, baby. Do we have any fudge?"

She sighed. Tilted her head. Shifted on his lap. "No. I don't think so, John."

"Hmm. I guess that just leaves the sex then." He lifted her, moving to his feet. Moira laughed, grabbing onto him. He laughed, carried her to the table. Set her on top of it, kissing her. Gently guiding her onto her back. "Let's start with part two, baby." He pulled her to seated position. Kissing her. He pulled off her woven shirt. Slid his hands up under her t-shirt and lifted it up, then off as she raised her arms.

"John, John–"

He kissed her again, cutting off her breathless voice. Ran his mouth, his tongue across the swells of her breasts. He slid the bra straps down, down. Pulled the bra down, unhooked it as his hands slid around. Slid back to cup each breast, to caress. His mouth ran up her throat, nibbled her earlobe. Licked behind to make her gasp, whimper, squirm. Arch and tighten as his kisses trailed down to her breasts. He stared, brushed her hair out of the way. "Fuck, Moy...so fucking beautiful..." His gruff voice made her shiver. He ran his mouth over each one, teasing the nipples. Gently nibbling, sucking as he eased her onto her back again. His stubble scratching with a delicious, sensual intensity.

"John, oh John...you...um, John?"

He lifted his head, already undoing his pants. "What?"

She hesitated, bit her lower lip. "Um..."

He straightened, pulled her to a seated position. Kissed her. "Um? What is it, Moy?" His gaze wandered over her again.

She ran her fingers up his arms, licked her lips. "I...um..." Suddenly embarrassed she could only stare at him. His brilliant green eyes were full of desire, passion. He licked his lips and Moira felt her body reacting. Tightening. Toes curling. His pants were undone and his erection was peeking through the opening, as if trying to escape the confines of his pants and shorts.

He met her gaze. "What? Would you prefer the bed?"

"Um, yes."

He raised a brow. "And?"

She touched his chest as he caressed her side. He cupped her breasts again. "I–"

"Oh." He freed them, realizing. "Sorry, sweetheart! You can tell me if they're tender, or sore, you know. I'd never do anything to hurt those fucking beautiful girls of yours."

"John! John, stop staring!" He smirked, met her glare. "It's not funny!"

"No?" He lifted her off the table. She grabbed onto him. "I guess not. Tell me, baby," he teased, sitting on the bed and pulling her onto his lap, "are those fucking beautiful tits sore from me or my son or both?"

"John! Shut up! You–" He cut off her protest with a kiss. Hands sliding up to fondle. Caress as her nipples reacted to his calloused touch. She murmured, shifting on his lap as his erection was hard under her.

"I can be gentle, baby. I can be very gentle with my girls," he assured, sliding his tongue down her throat, down to her breasts.

She shifted. "John...oh John..." she whispered.

"So fucking beautiful, but I can be gentle," he repeated against her skin. Eased her off him, onto her back. He pulled off his shirt, leaned close to kiss her repeatedly. Undoing her pants. Tugging them and her panties off her. Mouth capturing each breast again, each hard, rosy nipple and gently nibbling. She whimpered, arching up into his mouth. His fingers slid between her legs, pulling the fabric away, off, removing all impediments.

"John, oh John...John, we've been having sex all day! Wait!"

He sat, stood. P ulled off his pants, his shoes, his shorts. Moira scooted up, up, then under the covers. John slid under the blankets, then over her. Kissing her again. Sliding his body along hers. Sliding his stiff cock between her opening legs. Along her damp cleft. "Ah fuck, baby...do I need to be gentle here too?"

Moira blushed. "Um, yes. A, a little. I...I mean you never hurt me, but, but, but..."

"Ah." He kissed her. "Don't you worry, baby. I know we've been rather exuberant lately. I can make love with you and still get us off with waves of pleasure. Don't you worry, baby." His hands ran along her body, caressing. Testing as his mouth ensnared hers again. Gently he shifted, sliding down. Kissing along her collar bone, her breasts. Tongue circling the nipples as his fingers stroked, stroked her cleft. Slid in to test, to rub against her until she tensed, arched. Moaned in arousal, in pleasure. Moira clasped his arms, nails running along his back as he slowly continued, savoring every taste, touch, every feel of her body yielding to his. The growing passion becoming hungrier, hotter.

"Oh John, John, please, John..." she whispered urgently, melting beneath him. He gently sucked as his fingers gently pried, probed. He freed a breast as his fingers slid out of her. He slid up, kissed her. Slid his tongue into her mouth as he slid his cock into her. Slow, gentle motions, prolonging each moment, each intimate sensation. A steady, slow momentum edging them ever closer to climax. His tongue and cock in perfect harmony to her astonishment.

The pleasure was building, building. Pouring all over her and out of her. Into her as his kisses deepened. As his rhythm increased. Thrusting earnestly now, faster, deeper, but still gently. Moira clutched, cling. Broke from a kiss to cry out in a breathless stutter as she came. The climax sweet and pleasurable. "John! Oh John, John, John!" she repeated as he kept thrusting. Groaning with pleasure, need until he came quickly.

"Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered into her hair, breathing heavily. Nibbled her earlobe and pressed his body to hers. Sliding in and out until he strained, spurted. Fell almost lazily upon her. Moira shifted under him, caressing his back, his shoulders. Catching her breath. John smiled. "Gentle yet exuberant?" he asked, voice husky with sex, satisfaction. "My sweet, sweet Moira."

"Yes, John...oh John! John...that was...that was..." she stammered, overcome by emotion.

He kissed her. "I know." He slid out of her. Rolled them onto their sides. She snuggled against him as he drew the covers over them. "Go to sleep, baby. I'm exhausted. So sweet. Fuck, I'm going to miss this when I go to that stupid planet in a few days," he muttered.

Moira lay wide awake. As relaxed, as pleasured, as happy as she was she couldn't sleep. As warm, as protected, as loved as she felt she stared at the darkness. At the city lights filtering through the windows. Casting a golden sheen onto the cradle where the baby slept. Golden rays glimmered on the dark walls. She listened to the quiet. To John's gentle breathing as he fell asleep. To the waves barely audible from the window. Hearing the baby stir and make small sounds she turned away from John. Watched the infant settle. She smiled as Rodney's sound and vibration machine eased the baby back to sleep. Chuffing softly as his little mouth sucked at nothing.

A hand ran along her bare back, startling her . "Johnny?" he mumbled sleepily.

"He's falling back asleep," she whispered.

"Come here then."

She turned, snuggled in his arms. "John?"

"Ssh, baby. Go to sleep."

She stared at him. His handsome face, closed eyes. Long eyelashes. Full, kissable lips a perfect Cupid's bow. Forming a soft smile. Dark brown hair disordered, sticking up everywhere, in every way. Strong arms around her. His hair tickling her bare skin. Long, lean body pressed to hers. Her gaze ran along his broad shoulders, lean torso, muscled arms.

"What is it?"

She met his now opened eyes. His voice sounded no longer sleepy but wide awake. Alert. "Nothing. Go to sleep, sweetie."

John rolled onto his back. "Moy?"

She kissed him. "It's really nothing, John. Go back to sleep. I just can't sleep, is all."

He touched her bare arm, caressed. "Talk to me, Moira."

She kissed him. "No." She turned away from him. "I'm fine, John. Go back to sleep. It's nothing. I'll fall asleep soon enough." She stared at the darkness. At the cradle where the baby slept, little mouth sucking on an imaginary breast. John's hand suddenly enclosed a real one as he spooned against her. Kissed her shoulder.

"Tell me, Moy. Tell me whatever nothing is. If you need to relax or become pleasant fatigued I'm sure we can think of something to do."

She caught his hand, gently moved it down to her waist. "Hilarious, John. I'm fine. Go to sleep, sweetie. Don't you worry. It's nothing."

He kissed her shoulder again, body shifting against hers. "I am worried, Moy. So why can't you sleep, baby? Hmm? Was it the exquisite yet gentle climax? Was it because we made love, Moira?" he continued, voice low, intimate. "Not just sex, baby. Not even close to fucking. We made love. I made love to you, my Moira. I do know the difference. It's all in the execution." He kissed her throat. His hand slid up to her breasts again.

"Yes, John. I know you know. You really do know, and you excel at all three. It was...it was incredible, John! So loving, so...oh John..." she suppressed a wave of emotion. "Go back to sleep, sweetie. It's nothing. I...I love you, John." She blinked back tears. Caught his hand as he gently, so gently caressed her breasts.

John settled against her. "I love you, Moira. Moira Sheppard. My Moira." He scooted back as she turned to him. Suddenly snuggled into him, a breathy sob escaping her as she forced her tears back. She nestled against him, silent. Her face against his chest. John stroked her arm, her back. Kissed her brow. "Moira? Sweetheart, you can tell me anything. Anything. Any little thing." He tilted her face to his. Kissed her lips. His fingers ran through her long hair.

Moira responded to his kisses, but stubbornly snuggled against him. Holding onto him as if he was going to bolt. "No, John. It's nothing. Stupid. Silly."

"Why don't you let me decide that, Moy. So?" He kissed her cheek. Caressed her back, her arm. Enjoying the press of their naked bodies.

Moira touched his chest. Ran her fingers in his chest hair. "Where...where are your tags?"

"I'm not wearing them until I'm on a mission. Oh."

She shyly met his gaze. "Oh?" Worried.

He kissed her. Stroked her rosy cheek. "My Moira."

"John? John...I...no, no, it isn't what you–"

He kissed her again. "It's all right, sweetheart. I know."

"What? John? Know? What do you know?" she asked, starting to panic.

"Moira," he said low, possessively. "All of that love for me. Of course I know. It's more precious to me than anything, Moira. Anything." He moved to kiss her but she pushed him.

"What?" she asked, startled, enamored, worried all at once. "What do you know? John?"

"I know you don't want me to go on the next mission, or the next one after that. I know you want me, no, you need me here with you and John junior."

She stared, bit her lower lip. Freed it as he caressed her shoulder. "I..." She snuggled against him. "I'm sorry, John! I'm sorry! I know you must! You said you would be leaving soon."

"It's all right, Moy," he soothed. "Yeah...soon. On a mission, but not for a few days. I don't have to go, Moira."

"No! It's not all right! I can't! I won't ask that of you, John! I won't! I won't!"

"Ssh," he cautioned. "It's all right, Moy."

"No!" She pulled away, rolled away from him. "I'm sorry! I'm just being stupid! Silly! Selfish! I'm just being weak! I won't ask! I won't ask that of you, John! I won't. You have to get back to your job. Everyone is counting on you. Go! Go on the next mission. I'll be fine. Johnny and I will be, be fine."

He smiled. Spooned against her, pulling her body to his. He kissed her shoulder. "I know you'll be fine, sweetheart. Because I will be here."

"No! No, you have to go! You–"

"Ssh, sweetheart, you'll wake Johnny," he cautioned. He scooted away from her. Pulled her onto her back and moved on top of her. His mouth caught hers.

"No, John, please, please you will go! I won't ask that of you! You're the military commander of Atlantis, you lead the alpha team, you are in charge of all the–"

"I am your lover, your husband, the father of our baby," he countered, "so you can ask anything of me. Anything, sweetheart. If you need more time to–"

"No! John, please. I'm sorry! I'm being selfish, foolish, I know! I know who I married!"


	9. Chapter 9

Mutability9

John quirked a brow. "Well, I hope you know who you married, baby," he jested, but grew serious. "You married me. The guy on top of you."

"John!" she scolded. "I married your job, colonel. It's all right, I'll be fine, Johnny will be fine. You go, John. You go on the next mission. I can't keep you here. I can't. I won't."

He kissed her, moving against her. Intentions all too obvious now. "Then I can. I will. My Moira. Anything. Anything at all for you," he wooed, sliding down her body. He gently kissed her breasts.

"Um, John? John, no, I won't–"

"No?" He smiled, meeting her gaze. Hands caressing. "Sex makes everything better, baby."

"No, I mean yes, I mean yes, it does, I meant no, I won't ask you to stay here and–"

"Ssh." He kissed her. Fingers stroking between her legs, making her murmur, react. "Give yourself to me, Moira. I'll take it all away. It will just be us, Moira."

"John, please, John, you have to go. We have to let go...I have to let go so you can resume your job and leave, leave us to oh oh oh..." she gasped as he entered her. Sliding gently. Growing harder inside her as he nibbled her throat.

"Moira," he whispered hotly, "I will never, never let go. That's it baby, hmm?" He began a careful yet sensual rhythm.

"John, you, you...oh John, oh John..." she muttered, melting beneath him.

He gently laughed at her surprise, her surrender. "Ah fuck, fuck, baby. Like I really want to leave this? Ever? Fuck, baby, I'll take it all away." He groaned, thrusting harder, mouth on hers, tongue darting, gliding. Moira whimpered, moving with him. Pulling him closer as the pleasure built and built. John's cock growing bigger, harder as moved faster now. The bed was rocking. The headboard clanging on the wall.

"John! Oh John, John, John!" Moira cried, the orgasms crashing in on her, one after the other as he relentlessly plied her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he growled, riding her hard until he came, shudders and shivers escalating as the orgasm hit. He kissed her, slid out of her and collapsed onto her. "So fucking sweet," he muttered. "My Moira."

"John...you...John..." she stammered, at a loss for words.

He smiled. "You should be able to sleep now, baby." He settled on her, kissed her breasts. "My Moira. I don't want to be anywhere but here. Right here."

"John, you..." She ran her fingers through his hair, along his shoulders. "John, I can't ask it of you. I won't. You will go on the next mission. You go. Please, John."

"Now you want to get rid of me?" he teased.

"No! You...you know what I mean! John, please, we can't–"

He lifted. Kissed her. "No. I'm not moving a muscle until you are ready, Moy. Only you. John junior. No," he touched her lips, "I'm not changing my mind. So relax, sweetheart. Go to sleep. I'm not leaving your side until you are ready. Case closed." He settled comfortably.

"But John, you have to–"

"I said case closed," he repeated drowsily. "Besides, I won't be going on that mission for a week or two anyway, Moy. Relax. Go to sleep, baby. Don't you worry."

"I...John, no. I can't. I won't. You..." She was relieved and guilty all at once. Felt tears.

"I promise you, Moy, it's all right. Ssh." He kissed her again, settled. "My Moira."

"I...I'm sorry, John...I just...I...give me, give me a day, or two or–"

"No." He lifted his head to meet her worried gaze. "No apologies, Moira, ever. And you will have all the time that you need, sweetheart. Nothing is more important than this. Than us. Than our little circle. Nothing." He kissed her. "Go to sleep."

"No. You have to go on the next one. John! John!" She pushed at him. "Please! You will go on the next mission. Okay? Okay, John?"

He sighed. "Fine. The next one, now please let me sleep, Moy," he conceded.

"Okay, John. But you will go, won't you? John, you will go," she said firmly.

"Okay, Moira, I will go. Now go to sleep, baby, or I won't be going anywhere."

Moira woke suddenly. She sat. The quiet of the room was only broken by a baby's prattling. She stared round. She sighed. Recalled that John had a mission. Instead of a week it had been only a few days before he had resumed his job, his duties. Had left early, without awakening her. She moved out of the bed, to the playpen where the baby played. She smiled. "Hey, Johnny. I see that daddy has you dressed and ready for the day. Give me five, darling. We'll be fine."

The baby grinned at her. Moira moved to the bathroom. Quickly showered and made herself presentable. Fighting the nagging sense of panic. Now that John was gone out of the city, across the galaxy for all she knew she felt insecure although there was no reason for it. She emerged, braiding her long hair. The baby was fussing. Crawling clumsily as he explored the confines of his playpen. Dragging a toy plane with him.

"Okay, Johnny, here we go. We should get to work, shouldn't we?" She lifted the baby, set him into his stroller. "Don't you worry, darling. Daddy will be home soon. We'll be fine, we'll be fine," she repeated, more to herself than the infant who appeared not at all upset.

Moira wheeled the infant to the cafeteria, grabbing a quick breakfast. She headed for the bio lab, smiled at the other scientists who all stopped and eyed the babbling infant with her. They resumed their work as she grabbed a chair, sat and stared at the data screen, trying to remember how far she had gotten, and on what project.

The baby fussed, whimpering. Moira looked over to see him pouting, reaching for his fallen toy.

"Whoops! Here you go, darling." Moira moved to squat next to the stroller, gave the baby his toy. Kissed his rosy cheek. He gurgled at her, big blue eyes bright. She smiled. Tenderly tried to smooth down a wayward cowlick of dark hair, so like his father she felt a lump in her throat.

"Is he all right?"

She looked up to see Peter watching, a smile on his face. "Yes. He's fine, just lost his toy." She stood. Shrugged. "Sorry. If he's too noisy or–"

"Nonsense, Moira! He's more than welcome. Don't be silly."

"Thanks." She took her seat. "Play quietly, darling. Mommy needs to work."

John had gotten all the way to the Stargate. Was fully fitted out in his BDUs, TAC vest, P90, sidearm. Had watched the event horizon shimmer, expand with a violent KAWOOSH! Then fold back in on itself to a lazy pool just waiting to be crossed. His team waited for him to give the word. Teyla Emmagan appearing calm, as always. Ronon Dex checking his big gun one last time.

Rodney fiddled with his scanner. Took a step. Waited. Looked at his teammates, then John as he just stood there, staring at the event horizon. "Well? Sheppard? Hello? Are you waiting for an invitation?" he asked acerbically. Curious at his friend's abrupt reluctance. "John?"

John couldn't move. He felt frozen in place. He felt as if he fallen into a pit. A sinking emptiness had made his stomach twist. His heart hammer. He swallowed, spoke round a suddenly dry mouth. "Uh...stand down."

"What?" Rodney exclaimed.

"What?" Ronon asked.

"What? Is there something wrong?" Teyla asked.

John shrugged. "No, I just...I have to finish something here first. Mission's scrubbed. We can send Reynolds. It's not a high priority anyway, and Rodney, weren't you working on increasing the ZPM output to encompass other areas of the city?"

"Yes, but then this mission came up and Elizabeth decided we should check out the–"

"Reynolds can. Dismissed." He looked at them, whirled and headed for the control room. Conscious of their puzzled gazes, quiet comments expressing concern and curiosity. The farther his steps took him from the 'Gate the better he felt. The unease dying away. The twisting in his gut receding. His heart calming. He licked his lips, scowling as he tried to think of what to say as he climbed the stairs. Saw Elizabeth standing outside her office, staring at him. Her expression of concern and annoyance meeting him head-on.

"John? Is something–" she began, but John held up his hand.

"I can explain. I just need another week." He entered the office, knowing she would follow. Turned as she did, eying him.

"A week?" she asked, dubious.

"Yes. The thing is I still need to assemble the crib and then the nursery will be completely set. And once I do that and get Johnny settled there we can get back to normal. So all I need is another week, unless of course something important comes up. Something vital, then of course Ill go but I can better direct the teams from here and make certain our security is up to par."

Before Elizabeth could respond Rodney suddenly entered, already talking. "...and since he will need my help with the building of the crib I suggested we stay at least a week, since I'll have to adjust the McKay Synthezier Mark two and adjust the settings for the crib as it's made of an entirely different construction than the cradle. Right?"

John shot him a grateful glance, nodded, met Elizabeth's gaze as she viewed the two men, standing side by side. Hands on hips as they mirrored each others's stances. "Right. The settings have to be just right or Johnny won't be able to sleep all through the night and if he doesn't do that then no–"

"–one will, believe me, I can hear that kid all the way down in physics and if we open up these new areas of the city we will want to be sure that the kid stays asleep and doesn't disrupt any additional research. I bet I could utilize his enhanced ATA to start up the secondary systems and relay that power to the–"

"No, my son is not a battery charger, how many times do I have to tell you that?" John flared, glancing at him. Looked at Elizabeth. "So...a week. All right?"

"All right? A week should do it," Rodney agreed.

Elizabeth looked from one to the other. Her anger turning to amusement as their earnest expressions, serious voices. "I see. A week, you say?"

"Yes," they chorused, eyed each other briefly.

Moira sighed. "If the tests are inclusive that can only mean we're looking in the wrong place, again. I think we need to get back to the basics, Peter, and we will need Carson's expertise in this at the biochemical oh no, did you drop your plane plane again?" Moira leaned over to grab the toy, balancing the baby in her lap.

Peter smiled as her voice changed from the professional, serious biologist to the doting mother. "Yes, I think you're right, Moira. The change, or mutation must take place extremely early, in the cells, perhaps even before embryonic development, or during it."

"Something to do with experimentation, perhaps, or a genetic trigger to alter development," Moira agreed, gently bouncing the baby on her lap. "Which brings us back to the main–"

"I'm going to need this now," Rodney stated, entering the lab. He snatched a powered unit from a startled scientist.

"Rodney? What are you doing here, besides stealing our equipment?" Moira asked, staring. The baby prattled loudly in her arms, smiling at the physicist.

"Not stealing, borrowing," he corrected, adding, "I'm working, obviously."

"You shouldn't be here! Weren't you going a mission?"

"Yes, to MRX432 but John decided he'd rather stay here and build a crib."

"He...what? He..." Moira stammered, adjusting her hold of the baby as he squirmed in her arms.

"He's here? In the city?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, where else would he be? On vacation? Yes, he's here. In the city. Supposedly building the kid's crib but your guess is as good as mine as to why he suddenly decided at the last minute to scrub the mission. Thanks for this!"

Moira watched him leave. Looked at the baby. He was fussing again, little arms in the air. She looked at the stroller. Set the infant into it. "I...I have to go see..." She frowned, wheeled the baby out of the lab.


	10. Chapter 10

Mutability10

"John Sheppard!"

Moira's strident voice made John nearly swallow the nail clenched between his teeth. He dropped a hammer. It clattered to the floor. He spit out the nail, held the side of the crib with one hand as the other grabbed the iron brace. "Shit! Moira!" He looked over his shoulder at her, irate.

Moira stood in the doorway between the two rooms as she held the baby. She was staring at John. He was crouched by the half-completed crib. He had changed into a red and black flannel shirt, open at the neck and giving tantalizing glimpses of his chest hair. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. A black pair of jeans were snug on his rear. He hadn't bothered to shave that morning, despite almost going on a mission, and a shadow of stubble lined his jaw. It made him look dangerous, sexy.

John smiled slowly, seeing her reaction. Enjoying it. Enjoying the effect he still had on her. He let his gaze peruse her black woven shirt, her blue jeans. The baby was clad in a red t-shirt and jeans, mirroring his father. Staring at him with a gurgling smile. "Well? I know, I know," he sighed, "sometimes I amaze even myself. It must be hard, Moira, being married to a gorgeous guy like me. Having to gaze upon this perfection every day."

She smirked. "Hilarious, John! I was more amazed by the fact that you are finally putting the crib together."

He scowled playfully. "Hilarious, Moira! Hey, captain, don't you start." The baby was grinning at him. "So tell me, Moy... is it hard?" His brilliant green eyes sparkled.

She smiled. "You tell me, sweetie. Is it? Hard? Rock hard? Aching in your jeans, or throbbing against your zipper now?" She frowned. "Stop distracting me, damn it! What the hell are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I'm attempting to build a crib. Unfortunately the instructions are in Korean. I'm not kidding! I've seen technical manuals about X302s that were easier to understand."

"Poor Mensa boy. I knew I should have asked Rodney to–"

"Hell no. My son. My crib to build. Oh...and yes, by the way."

"Yes, what?"

He grinned. "It's getting hard after your words, baby, but I need more than words to make it aching or throbbing for your sweetness."

"John! You're supposed to be on a mission!" she retorted, returning to her anger.

"I am on a mission, Moira. This. Now unless you or the captain there have a beer for me get out and let me work." He turned back, lifting the hammer. The baby chortled happily.

"John! John! You're supposed to be on a mission!" Moira repeated. "Rodney said you were supposed to go to MRX432 but you sent another team! John! Get that fine, fine six of yours to MRX432! I don't want you to stay here, John! You said you'd go on the next mission! You said! I won't ask you to stay, John! I didn't ask you to stay!"

"I decided to stay," he retorted calmly to her upset tone. "I'm not going. I'm busy here. Don't upset yourself or Johnny." He hammered the brace support. "This damn thing was missing some pieces so I had to improvise. But it is perfectly safe, I promise. Only the best for my son."

"John!" She walked over to him, baby fussing until she kissed him. "Ssh, darling. It's all right. Please, John. I can't let you do this! I won't! John, you have to–"

"Finish this. I'll go on the next one, Moy, but only after this is done and Johnny is settled here." He leaned over, so far his shirt rode up as he extended his arms, giving Moira a view of his bare skin. A flash of red boxers before he scooted out and straightened.

She smirked. "Red, John?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Yeah, baby. I anticipate coitus after I finish this. I'm thinking wall. Your rough and ready soldier who seduces the prim and proper paleozoologist. Then Sheppard's delight." He flashed a wicked grin, lifted his brows. Resumed working.

"John, you...no. John! You can't do this!"

"I'm halfway finished, Moy. I can get this up and running in no time."

"No, not the crib! The mission! We have to talk about this! Look, I'll go to Weir and take the flak like I should have in the first place! It's all my fault anyway and then you can go to–"

John stood, pulled her gently into his arms and kissed her. So passionately Moira almost dropped the baby. John pulled back, kissed the baby's cheek. The infant gurgled. But grew serious, little hand touching his father's scruffy jaw. John smiled. "Soon, captain, you'll be able to grow a beard too." He winked. "Just this hint is enough to drive the women wild, though."

Moira laughed. "John! That is so sexy, sweetie. John, you–"

"No. It's done. Handled. Now get that perfect pert little ass out of here so I can finish this. But leave junior." He took the baby from her. "It's a guy thing, Moira. He can take a test flight. Scoot! Or at the very least get me a beer."

She sighed. "Fine. But we still need to–"

"Have sex, yes, it's on the agenda, believe me. Now go!"

She kissed him. Kissed the baby. "Fine. I'll just be in the other room if you–"

"Go do something sciency, will you? Go!" John watched her leave. "Let me tell you, son, that is the sweetest pert little ass in two galaxies, I swear!"

"John!" she scolded. He laughed.

An assortment of noises filled the air as Moira sat at the table, trying to work but instead brooding on her husband's recent actions. And his flirtations. The sounds of a hammer. An iron clanging. Wood slamming. A baby's chortling. John's swearing before catching himself and changing the words to less objectionable ones. Silence fell. Hearing the baby's giggles and John's laughter she moved to the doorway.

John was lifting his son high into the air, turning him slowly, then dipping him down. "Fly, junior, fly! Here we go, captain! C aptain Sheppard junior to the rescue!" He lifted him again. Blew a raspberry on his son's tummy. The baby giggled in delight. John gently moved him through the air, making plane noises. "All right, captain! Time for a landing! Easy does it!" The baby gurgled, prattled loudly. John smiled, kissed the baby's brow. "Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah, you do sound like McKay." He adjusted the mattress, the blankets. Set the baby into the crib. He screwed in the mobile. "Johnny! Look at this!" He wound the toy. Music played. The baby stared, reaching and smiling. "Now this," John touched one of the hanging aircraft on it, "is an F-302. This is an Apache Blackhawk helicopter. Like I used to fly. This is a..." He turned, saw Moira's warm gaze. "What?"

"Oh John..." She moved to him, touched his arm. Kissed him. "You are so wonderful with him!" she gushed.

"Well," he shrugged, embarrassed, "he is my son, Moy."

She looked at the crib. Touched it. Shook it gently. "Will this hold?"

"What? Of course it will hold, I made damn sure the...oh, hilarious, Moira! I wouldn't put him in it otherwise. I still need to attach Rodney's sound machine, then he'll be sorted. That just leaves you to sort. Repeatedly."

She leaned down, kissed the baby. "Is that so, Johnny?"

The baby cooed, catching her fingers as she touched him. Began to fuss. Moira straightened, winced. Touched her breasts. "Sweetheart?" John asked.

"He's right. Time to unload." She lifted the baby, frowned at John's smirk. "It's not funny, colonel! You try carrying a full load!"

"Baby, I am always carrying a full load!"

She laughed, elbowed him. "Hilarious, sweetie! Come on, darling." She carried the baby into their room. John laughed, adjusted the mobile. Cleared up his tools. Glanced over his shoulder to make sure Moira had gone. He roughly shook the crib, just to be certain. Satisfied he smiled. Listened to the noisy suckling of his son. "Hey, Moy," he called, "we still need to move the rest of my stuff out of here and into there."

"You need," she corrected, feeding the baby as she sat on the bed.

"Oh? Is that how it is?"

"Yes. I'm a little busy here, John."

"Are you? It seems to be you're just sitting on that pert little ass while my son does all the work," he teased.

"Hilarious, John!"

He laughed. "Lucky captain." He moved some boxes aside. "We need to unpack all of this."

"You need," she repeated, burping the baby over her shoulder.

"Cute. Very." He waited, judging by the silence that the feeding and burping were finished. He entered their room, paused. The baby was in his cradle, cooing softly as Moira fussed over him.

A hand on her rear made her gasp, straighten. "John!"

He laughed, squeezing. "Who else, baby? Ah fuck, that is the sweetest little ass in–"

"Shut up!" She shoved him. "I have to um...um...stay here!" She moved to the bathroom.

John stared after her. She had unwound her braid, and her hair billowed in wavy locks around her. "Moy?" He heard a drawer open and close. Curious he moved to the bathroom. Stared.

Moira was rubbing lotion over her breasts, around, across the pink, swollen nipples. Looking down her hair veiled her face, her breasts. But hearing a soft noise she looked up at the mirror, startled. Saw John in the doorway, staring hard. A sensual gleam in his brilliant green eyes.

"John! John, I..." She covered her breasts, stared at him in the mirror. "It's not funny, John! All of this sucking has chaffed my nipples. Between you and your son..." She smiled. Licked her lips. Resumed rubbing the lotion, deliberately cupping her breasts, kneading the nipples to hardness. Knowing it would arouse the hell out of him. "Hmm...maybe I should try honey. It could gentle of that sucking. Or make it harder. What do you think, sweetie? Is it hard now? Is it unbearably hard now?"

He murmured, shifting his stance. Smiled s she turned to him. "You know it is, baby. Rock hard now. Fuck." He stepped to her. Drew her hands away to touch, caress. "So...no sucking? How is that, baby? Fuck, the girls are so beautiful."

She shifted under his low, husky voice. His gentle touches. "John...yes, no sucking...at the moment. I..."

He kissed her. "I'm sure I can f ind other places to suck," he teased into her ear. Nibbled her earlobe.

She murmured, hands sliding along his chest. "John, oh John..."

"Coitus, baby," he said against her skin. He kissed her throat. Freeing her breasts to undo her pants. Unzip. Fingers sliding to pry at her panties.

She squirmed. "John, you...you, John, we–"

He kissed her passionately, pulling her against him. She squirmed, feeling his erection even through his jeans. His tongue glided into her mouth. "So?" he asked, pulling back to gaze into her eyes. "Wall? Counter? Bed? Floor? Chair?"

She softly laughed. "Yes."

"Yes? All of them?"

She laughed at his expression. "No, sweetie!" She tilted her head. "Well..."

He laughed. "My Moira. So fucking sweet."

"Ssh, John! The baby–"

"Is asleep, so let's get it on, baby, full throttle coitus!"

"Ssh! We have to talk about the mission–"

"Missionary position? Fine by me, baby, as long I can get in there and ride you."

"John!" She laughed, playfully shoved him back to unbutton his shirt. She kissed him. Circled his ear and gently bit. He groaned, fingers still plying her damp panties. She squirmed, bit harder as he rubbed harder. Shoving his knuckles along her cleft. Moira whimpered as his fingers abruptly slid into the panties and aggressively plied her. "John! John!"

He kissed her. "Moira. I could fuck you like this, you know. I could get you off like this." He pulled his hand free. Yanked down her pants. She stepped out of them, hands running up his bare chest, flinging the shirt open. Nails running down to his waist to undo his belt. His pants. John abruptly moved to his knees and kissed up her naked thigh. He nibbled.

"John? You...oh God..."she moaned as he kissed her waist, her hip. Caught the panties in his teeth and pulled them down. Moira gasped. She pushed him onto his back. Pounced upon him, kissing him generously. Legs splayed on his groin. She gyrated on him, causing him to groan loudly, enjoyably.

"Ah, Moira! Floor it is, baby! I do love the acoustics in here," he teased.


	11. Chapter 11

Mutability11

John moved Moira onto her back. He stood, removing his shoes and pants. Moira sat. Yanked down his boxer shorts and swatted her rear. "Hey!" he protested.

She laughed. "I swear, colonel, finest six in the galaxy!"

He grinned, turned as she stood. Moira flung herself into his arms, kissing him. Pressing her body to his. Breasts scrunched against his chest. Cleft sliding along his erection now. Inviting. Slick. "Ah, baby...where?" he gruffly asked. Kissed her.

"Bed, please," she said primly, but laughed as he swung her off her feet. She grabbed onto him as he carried her to their bed. He set her on the bed, moving over her. He glanced at the cradle where the baby slept. He moved into her now, thrusting steadily. Moira whimpered, squirming. Clinging as the pleasure built, built. She kissed him repeatedly, nails running up and down his bare back under the shirt. John kept moving, groaning in bliss as he moved harder, faster. Rocking the bed as the pleasure crested, crested. Moira's soft moans and cries only arousing him more. Her kisses luring him, her body welcoming his. Demanding his.

Moira drowned beneath him. Beneath the increasingly wild momentum. The feel of him inside her, bringing her closer, closer. The taste of him as his mouth captured hers. His warmth, solidness enveloping her. Consuming her as his love, his lust drove him to thrust harder, faster. "John! Oh John, John, John!" she cried, arching as she came. The climax frenzied.

John kept moving, possessing until he groaned, strained. "Fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" he growled, coming inside her. Spasms rocked him, pleasured him. He fell upon her, moving slowly still, kissing her deeply. Moira whimpered, moving under him. Hands in his hair, on his face. Nibbling and sucking his lower lip, taking his tongue into her mouth until he broke from the kiss to rest upon her. He shifted some of his weight off her as he slid out of her. "Baby...my Moira. So fucking sweet it hurts."

"What? John?" She touched his shoulder, but he didn't move, except to gently kiss her breasts. "John?"

"I only meant I want it to go forever, Moy. All that sweet pleasure, all that sweet fucking intercourse...I hate pulling out, baby, I hate leaving that sweet, sweet center."

She kissed his brow. "Well, sweetie, you can't stay in there forever, you know."

He smirked. "I know. Why the hell not?"

"You couldn't keep it up that long...could you?"

He laughed. "I guess not, baby. So fucking sweet. Every inch. Every inch is mine, Moira."

"Yes, John, of course." She stroked his back, feeling his sudden tension. He was silent, unmoving. "John?"

"Ssh. I'm enjoying the afterglow," he cautioned.

"Oh. Sorry, sweetie."

"Yes. I'm your sweetie. Moira's sweetie. And you are my baby. John's baby. Not John's son, but John's baby doll. Sex kitten."

Moira was silent, pondering his words, his odd mood. "Okay, John," she soothed. Kissed his brow. Stroked his back.

"Colonel Sheppard's Moy-toy. Like I'm Doctor Sheppard's boy-toy. Right?"

"Yes. Are you okay, John?"

"Of course. Why? Wasn't I?" He lifted up to meet her gaze. "Well?"

"You were wonderful, sweetie. I just...you...you're acting kind of–"

"Satisfied? Sated? Well?"

"I guess. John...you are angry with me," she realized.

"What? We just had sex, baby, how could I possibly be angry with you?" He smiled smugly. "We' ve been having lots of sex, baby. Exuberant, noisy sex. Lots. You know, Moira," he began, tone full of swagger and pride, "most guys couldn't keep it up as long and as consistently as I do. With you. Or as hard as you keep it for me, baby...we can literally go for hours, you know...hours."

"You're deflecting," she accused, frowning. Ignoring his sexual boasting. "I told you, John. I told you to go on this mission. I never asked you to stay behind."

He sighed, kissed her. "That again?" He rolled off her, stretched tiredly. "I just wanted sex, baby. Sex."

"Yes, that again!" She rolled onto him, stroked his face as he closed his eyes. "John? John! I didn't ask you to stay! I told you to go! You should have gone on that–"

"No, you didn't ask me, no, not in so many words, Moy. Not in any words at all, at least not directly to me. But I heard you talking to Johnny. And yes, you did ask me." He opened his eyes. "With every look in those beautiful eyes that I can't resist. With every soft, soft sigh. The way you cling to me in the middle of the night. The way you watch me. So yes, you did, Moy. So I stayed. Will stay until you are ready."

"No..." She felt tears. "John, I'm sorry! I–"

"No." He kissed her. "You want to know the truth, Moy? I...I couldn't leave." He stared at the ceiling, gently stroking her back. "I got to the 'Gate and just...froze. I felt sick. At the thought of leaving you and Johnny here. At being so far from you both, on another planet for God's sake! I just couldn't do it. I couldn't. Which is great, since I'm the fucking military commander and can't even step through the Stargate now!"

Moira kissed him. Oddly relived that he was having the same misgivings, the same feelings of panic that she was. "We...we'll get there, John."

"Will we? I told Elizabeth another week. Time to build the crib and get Johnny settled in there. To finish the nursery and get him onto a regular schedule. All of us, I guess. I want to be here. With you. With junior. That's all I want. Once all I wanted was to go through the 'Gate. And then get back to you, before we were married, I mean. But now...now it's harder to leave you. To leave Johnny. But I have to, Moy. I have to do my job."

Moira kissed him. "I know, John. I'm sorry. I know. You will. It's just taking more time than we thought, I guess." She rolled away from him suddenly, staring at the cradle. "It's the past. I've never been so happy, John. I've never been so, so loved, so wanted, so needed, and I've never had a baby before. I don't think I can do it all alone, not yet, I mean, not yet."

John scooted closer to hear her soft voice. His arm snaked across her waist, drawing her to him.

"Moira, you won't have to do it alone. I'll be here for you and for him. When I can."

"You, you gave me your love, John. You gave me a baby. And I just...I just know, ridiculous as it sounds that I'll lose it all. I couldn't bear to lose you, John. To lose this. I mean, I know I won't but I'm so fucked up by the past I just know you'll leave me. Or, or worse. I would almost rather you left me now, John, then to lose you."

He kissed her cheek. "Moira, I know. But this isn't the past. I'm not him, Moy. I'm not going anywhere. Not for long. Nothing's going to happen like that to me. Or to you. Or to junior. Not to us. Not to our little circle."

"I know. I just..." She sighed.

"I know. I've had those same thoughts too. Why do you think I am so reluctant to leave? Why I still can't even step through the Stargate? I'm more fucked up than you are, sweetheart. I don't want to miss a second of this, of you, of him, of us. As ridiculous as it sounds I just know I'll lose all of this. I'll come back through the 'Gate one day and you'll be gone. He'll be gone. That you left me, or, or worse. I know it won't happen. I know you love me. But still..."

She turned to him. Kissed him. "I'm sorry, John...I–"

"No." He sighed. Sat. Ran his hands carelessly through his hair. Looked round the darkened room. At the cradle where the baby slept. "I never expected this, Moy. Nor did you. Look at us now. Married, with a kid. We're making a whole new life here, Moy, in Atlantis. In another galaxy. We're establishing roots here, and honestly? I'm not sure that's such a good thing."

Moira stared at him. His handsome profile where the gold lights played lovingly along him. The strong, lean lines of his body. Chest and arm hair glinting darkly in the light. "Why do you say that, John?"

"Think about it, Moira. You. Me. Him. His double ATA. God knows what that's going to involve once he gets older. I mean in terms of the city. What he can access. You know," he turned to her, to see her watching him, serious expression, gaze full of love, concern, "I was told about this...assignment...it could be forever. Which I was fine with. Even when we didn't think we could ever return to Earth. Of course now we can, but my assignment hasn't changed. What I'm trying to say is I'm here for the long term, however long that is. But...this..." he gestured around the room, "this wasn't part of the equation. Of any equation."

"And you think all this changes things? Makes you not want to stay here for the long term?

He shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, having the whole city depending upon me is one thing. But having a wife and a child depending on me...that's a whole different thing, Moira. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change any of this! No, it's not that...it's..." He frowned, unable to find the right words. His own feelings a tangle he didn't want to unravel.

Moira touched his arm. "John, it will be all right. We'll figure it out, somehow. You. Me. Even him. We can all learn together. How to exist in this city, as a family. And if you do decide that we need to return to Earth, then we'll return to Earth. As long as we are with you, John, that's all that matters. These, these first missions...the separations...are going to be rough." She sighed, pushing back a surge of tears. "We just...we just have to adjust, is all. I have to adjust to, to being without you for a few days...just a few days, John?"

"Just a few days, Moy, I promise. I won't stay away longer than that. Don't you worry, sweetheart. We can do this. It just takes time, apparently."

"Yes, John. So...you, you'll be going on the next mission?" she asked softly. Trying not to reveal the torrent of emotion around those words, that question.

He reclined, kissing her. "Yeah, I will, sweetheart. Okay? But I'm not leaving until that crib is finished. We need a little more time."

She smiled, relaxing at his words. "Okay, John. Just, just a little more time. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't ask that of you, I–"

"No." He kissed her, moving her onto her back. Sliding over her. "We understand each other, sweetheart. So I will stay until you are comfortable with me leaving. Until I am comfortable leaving you and junior. Until junior is settled in his crib. Deal?"

"But what about–"

"Don't care. Deal?"

She smiled. Legs opening as he gently thrust against her, not hard enough but would soon be ready for renewed intimacy. "Deal, colonel." She kissed him.

"Besides," he teased into her ear, "I don't want to give up all this luscious sex just now."

She laughed. "Nor do I, sweetie. Nor do I."


End file.
